Sunlight
by Sweet Christabel
Summary: AU. Working at Aperture Science's top-secret research facility on the moon, a bitter, callous Doug Rattmann just wants to return to Earth, fed up with the monotony. But within the cold tedium, there's a spark of fire: a test subject with extraordinary tenacity. Drawn to her against his will, Doug finds that it's not too late for him to change, and that maybe he can save them both.
1. The Escape Attempt

**Disclaimer:** Portal and its characters belong to Valve.

**Author's Note: **This story began life when I was inspired by a piece of art by the lovely Raintalker over on Deviant Art. She told me she had a story behind it that she didn't have time to work on, so I asked if I could do it instead. She agreed and gave me a paragraph of the bare bones of the plot, and this story was born! Although the work is mine, the idea for the basic plot, and the image seen in the cover belong to Raintalker. Everything is used with her permission. If you're a fan of ChellxDoug you should check out her work :) There's a link to the picture that started all this in my profile.

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**Portal: Sunlight. **

**Chapter One – The Escape Attempt.**

If Chell ever stopped to think about the fact that she was risking her life on a daily basis, she always felt it as a flutter in the pit of her stomach, an almost panicky feeling of vertigo. That was why she chose not to direct her thoughts that way. She was not a woman prone to panic, possessing a level head and a cool temper. On the outside, at least. Inside, she raged and cursed, her anger constantly bubbling under the surface, like lava waiting to erupt at the first sign of a crack. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing that part of her. Her anger was her own, and she guarded it closely.

She was nothing here. A commodity, a tool to be used to further the cause of science. If she'd had self-esteem issues, this kind of attitude would have increased them tenfold. Test subjects were treated little better than test equipment: disposable, unworthy of notice, only possessing a bare minimum of intelligence at the very least. She was free to wander around the facility, provided she stuck to the designated areas, but it was like being invisible. Nobody talked to her, nobody even _looked _at her. She could have walked around naked and she suspected she would have passed through unmolested. Most of the scientists were men, and judging by the pin-up posters on their lockers and the swimsuit calendars, they were typical of the breed. But she wasn't a woman. She was a test subject.

Chell liked to take walks around the facility. It was the only leisure activity she had available to her, and it helped to break up the monotony. It also had the added bonus of letting her make trouble. Nothing major, just little annoyances she could add to the scientists' days. Things like getting in their way, making them move quickly and spill their coffee, rounding corners suddenly and making them drop their paperwork. Things so petty and childish she would never have lowered herself to the level of before. But things were different up here. She had to take what opportunities she could. She refused to protest verbally, and this did the job just as well.

Chell never did anything without a good reason. She knew speaking out would accomplish nothing, so she didn't waste her breath, even though she suspected she would have felt better after a nice, long shouting session. She hadn't uttered a single word since coming to the facility, except whispers in the dead of night, just to make sure her vocal chords still worked.

She scratched tally marks in the ceiling of her room every night. So far they hadn't been discovered. She was certain she would face disciplinary action when they were. (And it _was_ 'when', not 'if'. She was certain of that too.) She wasn't looking forward to that, but the scratches were worth it. Counting the days gave her perspective. She'd seen her fellow test subjects break. Outwardly they were the same, but inside they'd given up. They no longer cared if they lived or died, drifting through an endless cycle of test running and existing. It was existing because it sure as hell wasn't living. Their faces were blank, pale, lifeless. The bright spark in their eyes had long since faded. Chell would have found it sad if it didn't make her so angry. She couldn't imagine just giving up and letting things happen to her. She was in charge of her own life, even though being at the facility was a huge setback to her freedom. She'd been there 110 days so far, and she didn't feel ready to break any time soon.

The scientists seemed determined to do it, though. She was locked in a constant battle with them, unable to figure out why they were trying to break her down. It had her worried, not that she'd ever show it. She was a methodical person, relying on logic to see her through, and this didn't make sense. She didn't like things she couldn't figure out. If she couldn't figure it out, she couldn't decide how to solve the problem. Problem solving was why she was there in the first place. It was why all of them were there.

The worst part was, she'd volunteered. Not for _this_. She'd never have imagined it could be this bad. But she'd volunteered to test devices for the company. She'd done one or two tests at the main facility, tests that seemed casual by comparison. She'd tested the Aperture Science Handheld Portal Device, dubbed the portal gun by those with less time to spend on syllables. She'd been politely congratulated on her compliance and ability, then rewarded with a sedative she hadn't consented to. When she'd woken up, she'd found herself in a capsule bedroom, containing a slim mattress and a single pillow. The ceiling had been a mere three feet above her, the walls close enough together that she could scrape her elbows on them. Opening the door had revealed a nasty drop down. Her room, if it even deserved the word, was the sixteenth row up in a bank of identical doors. Woozy and disoriented, she'd made her way down the tiny ladder beside her pod. There was nothing but a corridor below, and its polished, slate grey surface had been surprisingly cold under her bare feet. It was a journey that she now made on a daily basis.

The real shock had come when she'd reached the window at the end of the corridor. There had been no windows where she'd been at Aperture. The majority of it was underground. So it had been with some anticipation that she'd headed towards this one. When she looked out at what she'd assumed to be the night sky, her jaw had dropped. There was a ball of swirling blue, green and white where the moon should have been. The landscape she could see outside was rocky and pitted, grey and monochrome. In the distance, she could make out a tiny flag, a proud display of the stars and stripes.

She'd known straight away exactly where she was, but it had seemed so ridiculous to admit that she was on the moon, even in her own head, that she hadn't bothered. She was immediately furious, knowing they had no right to abduct her this way, and knowing that there was nothing she could do about it. She'd joined a group of fifty test subjects 'specially handpicked' to take part in Aperture Science's new and exciting lunar project. Or so the introductory pre-recorded message had told her. Within hours she'd found herself garbed in a skin-tight white and orange jumpsuit and long fall boots, a new kind of portal device attached to her right wrist. It hadn't taken her long to get to grips with it, or the zero gravity test chambers they sent her to. She'd been solving their tests ever since.

The number of test subjects had dwindled down to thirty-three since she'd been there, and as yet they hadn't been replaced. She'd observed that a supply shuttle came once every three weeks, and that some of the scientists looked as longingly at it as she did. Not speaking gave her the opportunity to watch, and she noticed everything. There were only a handful of scientists there that seemed to genuinely _want _to be there. Everyone else looked miserable, but dedicated. She knew just by looking at them that they wouldn't help her escape, even to get out of there themselves. She'd vowed to do it on her own. And today, she would fulfil that vow.

She wasn't testing, which meant she was walking. She was drifting perilously close to an area she wasn't authorised to be in: the corridor that led to the unloading bay for the supplies the shuttle brought. As plans went, it wasn't as good as she would have liked. There were far too many things that could go wrong. But it was literally the only option she had. They'd been unloading for fifteen minutes now, which meant that she had almost two minutes before the station closed the airlock.

She wandered closer and took a look around. There were no scientists looking her way, and the management rails were free of cores. That was enough for Chell. She bolted. She swiped her stolen I.D. card through the reader and slipped through the door, letting it slide softly closed behind her. She pelted down the corridor, her bare feet silent against the cold, hard floor. She skidded to a halt before she could draw attention to herself, peering into the unloading bay. She was going to have to make a run for it. There was no one between her and the airlock. At the back of her mind, a cynical strand of thought wondered why her path was so clear. But she didn't have time to worry about it. She just ran.

She was across the unloading bay in seconds, frantically pressing the panel to open the airlock door. She darted inside and hit the panel for the second door, the only remaining barrier between her and the shuttle. It flashed a stern red light at her and refused to open. Wariness seeping in, Chell hurried back the way she'd come. The door into the unloading bay was now locked too. She was trapped in the airlock. The shuttle, she could now see, was leaving. She bit her lip, refusing to give in to the approaching panic.

"That wasn't a wise course of action, 1498," said a muffled voice.

Chell glanced up to see a group of three scientists clustered around the porthole window in the door. She clenched her fists by her sides, awaiting the force of their displeasure. It always angered her to be addressed by a reference number rather than her name, but of course, they'd never called her anything else.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you cause?" the head scientist - she thought his name was Peter - asked rhetorically, his tone sharp and commanding.

She resisted the urge to nod. It would annoy him, and that was a satisfying thought, but at this stage she knew it would be unwise to push her luck.

"I hope you can appreciate that I can eliminate all my problems with the flick of a switch," he went on. "The switch that operates that door, to be precise."

Chell didn't need to look behind her to know that he meant the door out to the vastness of space, and not the one that would let her back in to the facility.

"Uh, sir?" said the man at the back, clearing his throat. "1498 is my test subject. The choice to dismiss her should be mine to make."

Chell almost lost her grip on her silence at his use of the word 'dismiss'. It was insensitive and cold, and what was worse, she suspected he didn't even fully realise that fact.

"In normal circumstances I'd agree, Mr. Rattmann, but this one..." He waved a hand at Chell in a way that made her feel like an insect in a specimen jar. "Are you sure she's not more trouble than she's worth?"

"I'd say her results speak for themselves, sir. I've never..." her supervising scientist trailed off, glancing up and meeting her eyes. She stared at him blankly, hoping to make him awkward, to gain back what power she could. He looked away after a few scant seconds, turning back towards Peter. "Are you sure you want to have this conversation in front of the subject, sir?"

"Sure. What's the problem? Who's she going to tell?" Peter said, throwing back his head as he laughed, giving Chell an unwanted view of his poor dental work.

She indulged in a brief fantasy of shoving the portal gun down his throat.

"Carry on, Mr. Rattmann."

Her supervisor, one Douglas 'Doug' Rattmann, glanced at her once again before continuing. She saw his mismatched eyes narrow a fraction as he took in her expression.

"I've never seen a test subject like her, sir. Her results aren't at all what I was expecting. I'd like to take the project as far as I can."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it's up to you. I can't deny that you have a point, but bear in mind, I will start holding you accountable for her actions if she steps out of line again."

"I understand, sir."

"Whose I.D. did she steal anyway?"

The third scientist, a nervous-looking man who seemed to have fallen into the role of Peter's personal assistant, consulted his clipboard. "Um...Victoria's, sir. She reported it missing about an hour ago."

"Send her to my office, will you? We can't have test subjects running around stealing I.D. cards. It's bad enough we have to have them roaming the halls."

The approaching sound of running footsteps attracted their attention, and Peter and his lackey turned to look. Rattmann, again, looked at Chell, his expression thoughtful as he studied her.

The knowledge that she was trouble had made her feel reckless, and she held up Victoria's I.D., letting it swing gently on its lanyard. Her lips curled up in a wry, slightly smug smile.

His eyes widened and he glanced at Peter, presumably to check he was still distracted. Then he made a small but perfectly clear gesture indicating that she should stop rubbing the theft in his face.

"Sir," a panting voice from outside was saying, "I couldn't get you on the comm. Can you come down to catering? They're saying the Atmospheric Monitoring Sphere is malfunctioning. It's stuck on its rail by the window and it won't stop talking about being in space. They say it's very distracting to their work."

"Hmph," Peter spat, sounding more than a little unimpressed. "What do they have to be distracted from? All they do is stand around heating up rations!"

"Even still, sir, we should get the Atmospheric Monitoring Sphere working if there's a problem."

"Yes, yes, I'm on my way." Peter turned back to Rattmann, his body language already indicating an air of dismissal. "Do what you have to do, Doug. She's your responsibility."

With that, Peter and his nervous assistant departed, leaving Chell alone with her supervisor without even a parting glance.

He let out a weary sigh, his breath briefly fogging up the glass of the tiny window. Chell, who was unsympathetic with him at the best of times, did not care two straws for his obvious tiredness. She had been threatened with being ejected into space, and he was the one acting as if his day was going badly! She slammed her palm against the glass, feeling a small ripple of satisfaction as he jumped.

"Hey, none of that," he scolded. "Didn't you hear the part where he said it was okay for me to open that door?"

She raised her eyebrows, almost in challenge. She had been testing for this man for nearly all of her 110 days. She didn't know him well, but she didn't think he was the type who would send her to her death without a solid reason. He was a little callous, a little self-seeking, a little introverted, but he wasn't a monster.

He ran an ink-stained hand through his untidy black hair, causing it to stick up in unruly spikes, giving him a slightly unstable look. She'd heard whispers that he was 'the crazy one', whatever that meant. She didn't know, and she certainly didn't care. The whole lot of them were crazy from her perspective.

She began spinning Victoria's I.D., winding and unwinding the lanyard around her index finger as she changed direction.

"Look," Rattmann began, his voice betraying a touch of jaded dullness, "you're causing me a lot of headaches." He glanced up, watching her spinning. "And that isn't helping."

She shrugged. She knew she was being petulant, but the day's events hadn't put her in a cooperative mood.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?" he asked, leaning a little closer to the glass. "I don't believe you do. Not when you're the only test subject who..." He trailed off, huffing gently. "Well, you already know that, don't you? You're not stupid. They think you are, you know. They think you haven't given up because you don't understand. They think because you don't speak you've got some kind of brain damage."

Chell didn't care what they thought of her. In fact, she preferred to be underestimated. But she could tell from the penetrating look he was giving her that he wasn't fooled. She met his gaze steadily. Whatever her opinion of the man, she had always found those mismatched eyes oddly fascinating. They were a clear, light shade of blue, with one pupil much larger than the other. Set against the black of his hair and the paleness of his skin, they were almost the only bit of colour in his face.

"I don't know what your problem is," he went on. It was a simple statement of fact, not rudeness, which caused her to quirk an eyebrow in mild surprise. "You definitely speak English, I can see you understand what I'm saying. Can you...just not talk? And your behaviour is some kind of outlet? Help me out here, I'm trying to understand."

That wasn't what she'd been expecting, and she wondered why he was trying to understand.

"Well how else am I supposed to figure you out?" he added, and her eyes widened as she realised how easily he'd read her expression. "You're surprised. I'm not stupid either, you know. Surely you can appreciate how puzzling it is to have someone volunteer to be a test subject and then act the way you act when asked to test. Can't you see why I wonder about you?"

Chell eyed him apprehensively, unsure whether he was ignorant of the way she'd been brought there, or if he was simply lacking in empathy.

"If you just stop this, we can complete the tests and we can both leave. Why make it harder for yourself?"

She wondered if he had forgotten that some of the tests, especially now she was getting into the more advanced ones, were dangerous to the point of being lethal.

"I know the tests are difficult," Rattmann said, causing her to narrow her eyes, daring him to patronise her. "But you signed up to beat them, didn't you? You're taking part in ground-breaking science here. Only a handful of people can say they've tested revolutionary technology, on the moon, no less."

Chell turned away, biting her tongue. She clenched her fist, wishing she could swing it at him and break the rose-tinted glasses he was obviously looking through. Taking part in ground-breaking science? The part of her that had once held an interest in science had long since died. Her life consisted of being forced to sleep in a pod she could barely sit up in, being given nutritional injections in the place of real food, having nothing to do except wander aimlessly around the facility, being assigned fifteen minutes of shower time a week, (which she could divide up as she saw fit), and do all of it in temperatures that she was certain were below the legal limit for working conditions. And when she was not doing that, she was dodging laser beams at zero gravity, doing her utmost not to get killed, because this life was still better than no life at all.

Part of her wished she could tell him all of that. But her silence was effective, and gave her some measure of control over her existence. Aperture had control over everything else, but her voice was hers to use as she chose. And she chose not to.

"Look, just…can you…look at me? Please? 1498?"

She stared fixedly at a mark on the wall, and heard him sigh heavily.

"Okay, fine. Just listen. Can you please not do anything like this again? There will be repercussions. I could get fired, you know. And you…well, I don't even know. But you can bet it won't be good."

Chell gave a sigh of her own, reluctantly agreeing with him. She wouldn't get off this easily next time.

"Obviously it's up to you. You'll do what you want anyway, no doubt. But bear in mind that I'm _asking_, 1498. I could just bark orders at you, but I get the feeling you wouldn't respond well to that."

Against her better judgement, she turned her head and studied him. He was watching her with open curiosity. The artificial light threw his features into sharp relief, accentuating the shadows under his eyes, the acute angles of his cheekbones and prominent nose. He was sporting a few days' worth of stubble. Razors, she guessed, were still packed away among the new supplies.

In the glint of her eyes, she gave him just one instruction for him to pick up on if he could: Use my_ name_.

"I can't let you out unless you agree to cooperate."

Chell glanced down at the lanyard coiled up in her palm. In the right hands, it could be a weapon. It was designed to go around necks, after all. But was she really that kind of person? It wouldn't bring back the shuttle. And Rattmann didn't deserve to be strangled just for being a bit of an asshole. He wasn't the first one she'd had to deal with and she was sure he wouldn't be the last.

Thoroughly disliking the cold trickle of defeat that settled in her stomach, she met his gaze once more and nodded.

"Okay. Good."

He punched his security code into the panel and the light changed to green. Chell seized the handle and darted out, relieved to be another step away from certain death. She hadn't let herself think about how disconcerting that feeling was. In the tests, there were always things she could do to prevent herself from getting killed. Being trapped in an airlock snatched that control away from her.

Feeling Rattmann's gaze upon her, she forced herself to calm down. She didn't want to give him any insights into what scared her, afraid that they would somehow find their way into the tests. But judging by the look on his face, it was too late to fool him.

"You didn't like that, huh?"

She shot him a contemptuous glance. It was a completely absurd thing to say.

He seemingly chose to ignore it. "I'm going to need that back," he stated flatly, pointing at the I.D. card.

She handed it over. It had served its purpose. His own I.D. hung from a clip on the breast pocket of his lab coat. The clips provided a much bigger stealing challenge than the lanyards. That was why she hadn't taken his card, even though she'd had chances.

She glared at him, feeling her lips purse in a sullen pout, wishing she could hate him, but somehow not mustering enough strength for it. On closer inspection, she had to rethink her earlier assessment of him. He didn't just look tired, he looked exhausted. A curious part of her wondered why, and briefly considered what sort of pressure he had from his superiors that would make him push her so hard. She still wasn't convinced he was a cruel man, even taking into account everything she'd been through so far.

He escorted her back through the unloading bay and down the corridor towards the door into the main body of the facility. She halted outside it, waiting for him to swipe his card. He hesitated, watching her, apparently thinking of something he intended to say.

Chell leaned back against the wall. Not only did it demonstrate her lack of caring, but it also gave her a little more room. The corridor was narrow, and he was only half a head taller than she was, which almost put them on an equal eye level. It was unsettling.

"They will dispose of you if you cause too much trouble, you know that, right?"

She nodded. She never doubted Aperture's ability to dispose of test subjects as it wished.

"I mean it."

She sent him a look that clearly stated, 'Well, duh.'

"Okay, okay, I'm just saying. I just want to make sure you understand these are not idle threats." He pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly closing his eyes. "You may not believe it, but I actually don't want you to die. Okay? There's no need to encourage that kind of waste of life."

She observed him doubtfully, pondering the truth of his words. They were easily spoken, matter-of-factly. There was very little emotion behind them.

Shaking his head slightly, he slid the card through the reader and opened the door. Chell stepped through without waiting, and he followed.

"You're scheduled for a round of tests in three hours," he told her. "I'll see you then."

He headed away from her, in the direction of the scientists' private quarters. Chell watched him go with narrowed eyes. She didn't know what it was like there, of course, but in her mind he and the others were enjoying their own luxury suites with king sized beds, hot tub baths, and bookshelves. It was unlikely, she knew that. Aperture treated its staff well, within the limits of the law, but not to an extreme extent. But time and boredom had made her bitter.

Still feeling the discomfort of defeat, she turned away and started walking, with nothing to do but pass the time.

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**A/N: **Updates will be weekly. Probably. That's the plan anyway. This story is finished, so there's no chance of abandonment :)

Reviews much appreciated :)


	2. The Turning Point

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed and followed :)

To the guest reviewer: Glad to hear from another Chellmann and Raintalker fan! Thanks for commenting. About your first point, that's a style choice. Despite the fact that it's third person, it's still Chell's thought process, and people don't tend to think in well-structured, full sentences. Short, punchy sentences build up tension. However, looking at it objectively I can see how it might be annoying. I've toned it down for future chapters. As for your second point, you're completely right. That was lazy. Thanks for alerting me :)

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**Chapter Two – The Turning Point. **

The persistent beeping of Doug's alarm woke him from the uneasy doze he'd fallen into. Stifling a groan, he rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the remnants of his dream. He'd dreamed about _her _again. That made it the third time this week. She was haunting him. He wondered if it was his lot in life to always be under attack from his own mind.

He'd drifted into an unhappy cycle of napping a lot, but never getting enough rest. He was always cold, so he drank coffee as a means of warming up. The caffeine kept him awake, and then when he _did_ sleep, she would appear like a wraith, torturing him with things he couldn't afford to think about.

He swung his legs off the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, hands clutching his hair as he dragged his thoughts back to where they should be. He could still see her, staring at him, that so-familiar look of challenge in her cold, grey eyes. He shivered. Everything was so cold here, and he was starting to wish that she wasn't one of those things, but he'd seen the way she looked at him enough times, as if she could freeze him with her glare alone. If only she knew that she was partially successful. The force of her hatred chilled him deeper than the environment ever could. He just wished he knew why. He'd never had a test subject affect him that way before. But then, he'd never had a test subject like her before.

Getting to his feet, he crossed the small, practical room to his desk. It was covered with notes and official bits of paperwork, and dotted now and then with a few sketches. He picked up the nearest page, almost entirely covered with lines of his scrawled handwriting.

'Test subject 1498 completed test chamber 23 in 4m, 45s. Subject did not show outward signs of stress, but as always, did not speak. Subject does not have particular athletic prowess, but utilises skills available to maximum effect. Subject is starting to push device 'Mark Zero' to its limits, which I believe will be beneficial for the development of future models.'

He skimmed further down the page, to the objective but honest comments.

'Subject 1498 refuses to give up when faced with problems that have defeated previous test subjects. Although the subject's attitude makes her unsuitable for the set tests, it does bring to light some interesting results about the quality of the test chambers. I recommend authorising her for further testing with this in mind.'

Shortly after submitting that report, he'd been asked to find her breaking point. When he asked why, the only reply he received was a snapped, "For science!" which was not remotely informative or helpful. Still, he'd done as he was told, with no clear results to show for it. She was stubborn beyond belief, and possessed an inner strength that he couldn't help but be in awe of. And that stunt she'd pulled that morning, trying to sneak aboard the shuttle... No other subject would have dared to try such a thing.

Doug was beginning to understand why she was trying to escape, and he empathised with her. He'd been feeling the same way for the majority of his time here. 'Be careful what you wish for', his mom used to say. The irony wasn't lost on him. When it had looked like he was heading for assignment on the latest artificial intelligence project back on Earth, he'd protested, stating that he'd rather go to the moon. So they'd sent him. It had been as simple as that.

At first he'd been thrilled to be away from the main complex, enjoying the change, but it had quickly grown monotonous. He was fed up of constantly seeing the same walls, eating the same food, having nowhere to really escape to. He missed the sunlight, and little unimportant things that he'd never really appreciated before, such as effective heating, decent coffee, and having a nose that didn't have a permanently red tip to it. In short, he wanted to go home.

'You'll get there,' he told himself. 'It's just going to take time.'

But she wouldn't.

He blinked as the thought struck him. He'd never considered it before, but suddenly it occurred to him that 1498, who was now infamous throughout the station for being a nuisance, might not make it out of here. Test subjects died, he knew that. They all signed the relevant consent forms before they were sent anywhere near a test chamber. There were the odd one or two that had to be taken care of, for various reasons. He'd fooled himself into believing that it was for a good cause, that their work would pave the way for life-changing inventions. Since he'd known _her_, since he'd really thought about what it would be like for a test subject to be disposed of, he'd started to doubt. And worse, he'd started to realise that he'd done things that he might spend a lifetime trying to atone for.

Doug was not a brave man, and reflections like these sent him into panic attacks. The thought that she might not survive this...that was worse than anything else.

Automatically, his eyes sought out the mug shot at the top of her file. He studied her face: her cold expression, her luminous grey eyes, her dark chocolate hair, that milky-coffee skin and those full lips. He felt a faint blush sweep his cheeks, even though he was alone. He had admired her spirit, professionally, of course, for a long time now. And as for the rest...well, he was just a man, and he wasn't blind. It was easily ignored. Except now it wasn't. And he didn't know why.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered.

Just like in life, she didn't answer, continuing to stare at him accusingly. He'd heard the phrase 'if looks could kill', but he'd never fully appreciated it until he'd met her. She would have killed him a hundred times over by now.

A knock at his door made him jump, startled, and he dropped the page he'd been reading. Running a hand through his bed hair, he hurried to answer it. It was one of the housekeeping staff, whose name he'd forgotten. She was holding a white paper bag, and was wearing an accommodating smile.

"Your prescription, Mr. Rattmann, off the supply shuttle."

Doug reached out and took the bag from her, mumbling his thanks. She nodded and departed, and he closed the door, sealing out the facility once again. He tossed the bag onto the bed, not feeling his usual need to check that the contents were correct. They always were. His particular cocktail of anti-psychotics was made up of various, expensive drugs, and he knew the pharmacy staff double checked outgoing expensive items with the utmost care.

He headed into the tiny en suite bathroom to splash some water on his face. Looking up, letting the droplets run down to drip off his chin, he studied himself in the mirror. He looked tired. The dark circles were getting darker day by day. He was not what he'd call a pretty sight. The growth of stubble just made his pale skin look paler. His mismatched eyes, almost permanent crease of worry between his eyebrows, his long, narrow nose, and the messy black spikes of his hair all added to the picture of a man who'd never considered himself handsome. It had never really bothered him. Attraction was subjective, after all, and he had a few good memories from his youth to prove that. Doug had always had...not self-esteem problems, but a very harsh, clinical view of himself. He called it realistic. Others called it being hard on himself. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. And therein lay the rub. _She _didn't see beauty when she beheld him. She saw him for what he was, what he'd let himself become: cold, unfeeling, selfish.

He combed his fingers through his hair, taming it, then dried his face on the scratchy, Aperture-logoed towel. Consulting his watch, he noted that he was due in the observation office in twenty minutes. His self-examination had put him in a grim mood, and he searched for something that would provide twenty minutes of distraction.

He took his afternoon dose of tablets, and searched his desk for a blank sheet of paper for notes. There wasn't a single one that he hadn't doodled on. He used it as a form of art therapy, to aid the medication in keeping the voices out of his head. It worked to a point. He was always aware of them, but the treatment made them easy to ignore, a mere ambient hum at the back of his mind. He knew he'd probably never be sane. Schizophrenia was his for life, the worst kind of entrapment courtesy of the universe.

A careless sweep sent 1498's file to the floor, her picture once again staring up at him, as if she blamed him for putting her down there. She'd probably laugh if she knew how messed up he was. He picked it up, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from its glossy surface.

She'd made him care.

Doug halted in his tracks, absorbing the realisation slowly, like damp earth absorbing rain. Passing through life as a callous bastard gave him a degree of protection from the world. He hadn't always been that way. He'd cared once, been sympathetic to others, been capable of empathy. But trying to live with his condition, facing criticism, insults, doubt, being shunned by people who should have known better, it had made him resentful. He'd once been forgiving and kind, until living with an unfair stigma had leeched it out of him. She made him remember what it had felt like. He wasn't sure he liked that. He didn't want to be vulnerable again.

'Push her harder,' whispered a voice at the back of his mind. 'Break her. Then you can leave and you won't have to worry about any of this.'

He felt a traitorous, instinctive burst of alarm at the thought of actually breaking her. Quashing it quickly, he dropped her file back on the desktop. He would be much better off listening to the voice, doing what he was supposed to be doing rather than entertaining the possibility that she had somehow changed him.

He gathered his things, tugged on his lab coat, and accessed the locator program on his laptop. The chip embedded in her arm informed him that 1498 was in the Johnson wing, not far away from the test chambers. She was in a designated area, which meant that she was behaving herself. He guessed the incident in the airlock must have unnerved her more than she let on.

The room, which had never really felt like it belonged to him, sank into gloomy half-darkness as he left it and hurried to meet her. She was staring out of the window, her eyes strangely unfocussed, seemingly looking at things only she could see. When she turned, hearing his approach, her expression was unusually unguarded. He saw a softer version of the face he knew so well, one that couldn't quite hide how troubled she was, how anxious and scared. It was there for only an instant, in the split second between seeing him and registering who he was, but it was enough to chip at his resolve. Then her mask slipped back into place, hardening the lines of her jaw.

"Ready?" he asked simply.

She sighed heavily, and followed him without answering. They walked the lengthy distance to the test chambers in unsurprising silence, Doug always half a step ahead of her. When they reached the set of tests he would be putting her through that afternoon, he was surprised to see one of his co-workers still there, even though she should have been finished fifteen minutes earlier.

"Christine, what's going on?" he asked as they approached.

"Sorry, Doug. There was an incident. We'll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Damn annoying. It was going pretty well. Now I'm going to have to start over. Oops, mind your back."

He turned, stepping out of the way of the two members of housekeeping, and the gurney they were rolling between them. His test subject moved too, her eyes wide and suspicious as she watched them enter the chambers.

"What happened?"

Christine shrugged, tucking her wispy blonde hair behind her ear. "I don't even know. One minute it was going fine, the next my subject was screaming. One of the lasers from the new turrets severed something. I don't know how it happened. It was a careless mistake, if you ask me."

Behind him, he heard the soft scrape of 1498 clenching her teeth. She was angry again. He wondered if she ever stopped. It must be exhausting.

"Accidents happen, Christine," he said diplomatically.

"Not to me, they don't. I was this close, Doug." She held up a hand, thumb and index finger a centimetre apart. "My results are ruined. I'm pissed."

His test subject's breathing grew quick and shallow, he could actually hear her fighting for control. He felt something stirring in his chest, long-forgotten and almost buried: empathy.

Although he knew it was hypocritical to an extent, he couldn't help feeling disgusted by Christine's assessment of the situation, and her priorities. Even at his most callous, his base instincts had remained the same. He'd simply learned how to work around them. His life up here, and the people in it, had faded to black and white, and everything he dealt with could be answered with either 'do it' or 'don't do it'. It was a bland but uncomplicated way of living, and he'd been fine with that. But now he was starting to see strands of colour. The burning red of his test subject's fury, the warning orange of his alarming realisations, the calm, dusky pink of compassion, the cold, icy blue of Christine's insensitivity.

It was all down to her, his test subject. He held her solely responsible. He didn't want to feel all of this, he'd been doing just fine as he was. Okay, so it wasn't much of a life, but it had protected him.

'No, Doug,' a voice hissed in his mind, 'you haven't been fine. Why aren't you man enough to admit it?'

'Shut up.'

'She is the only thing that makes you feel alive up here.'

'Shut up!'

'You've been living a lie for years. It's not her fault that she can break through it. She makes you want to be a better man. A man you used to be. Let her, Doug. Let her in. Let her in!'

The screech of the gurney's wheels broke through his thoughts, mercifully saving him from shouting out loud. He took a deep breath, unnerved by the clarity of the voice. They were never usually that prominent, not when he kept up with the correct dosage of his tablets. He guessed he should be thankful that it was just one voice and not the crowd that swamped him if he got careless.

The housekeeping staff wheeled the gurney back out, the remains of Christine's test subject placed on it as best as they could manage. There was blood everywhere. The body was a mass of it, still seeping from burns and lacerations across his chest. His right leg had been completely severed, and had been unceremoniously dumped upside-down in the space next to his left. The young man whose job it was to fit test subjects with their gear followed behind, carrying a bloodstained long fall boot and portal device. His face was white as a sheet, and he was blinking rapidly in an attempt to deal with what he'd seen.

Doug followed the progress of the grim procession as they passed him. The only thing that tore his gaze away from it was when he'd turned his head enough that his test subject entered his field of vision. He'd never seen her look so pale and shocked. Her eyes were wide and horrified. He saw her swallow a lump in her throat, and drop her gaze to the floor, her lips pursing slightly as she bit her tongue.

"Well, that's me done for the day then," Christine said, clicking her pen and putting it in her lab coat pocket. "Test chamber's all yours. Just step over the blood. They'll have it cleaned up sooner or later."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Christine set off down the corridor, following the steady trail of bloodspots, her impractical high-heeled shoes clacking self-importantly. Doug led the way into the prep area that began each set of chambers. Usually, he would head directly to the observation office, but in the absence of the equipment supervisor, he was going to have to gear up his test subject himself.

She was walking as if in a daydream, and he hoped she'd be able to pull her focus back for the tests. An unwanted image of her lying on that gurney entered his head, her grey eyes open and sightless, her body stained with blood. He pressed a hand to his temple, taking a steady breath, trying to expel the picture. When he looked up she was watching him, her expression curious.

"I'm…sorry you had to see that," he said.

She quirked an eyebrow in apparent surprise. She was surprised that he was being polite. He didn't like how uncomfortable that made him feel. Exactly how much of an asshole had he been?

He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the long fall boots, handing her a pair in her size. She bent to put them on, tightening the straps around her slender legs. Gloves in the same light fabric as her jumpsuit followed. He swiped his I.D. card, opening up the storage container that held the new portal devices. It was such a new prototype, it hadn't officially been branded yet. Some of the other scientists had been calling it the Mark Zero, and the name had stuck. He lifted one of them out, nudging the container shut with his elbow.

She held out her right arm without being asked, a move of unexpected obedience. She was acting as if…as if the sight of a dead associate had broken her. The thought sent a ripple of alarm through him. She couldn't break, not his stubborn, strong-willed test subject. She couldn't!

'You were ordered to break her, Doug,' a voice whispered. 'This is a good thing. You'll be back on Earth within the week. Isn't that what you wanted?'

He ignored it, stepping up to where she stood waiting. When he fastened the device to her wrist, he felt the subtle tremble of her limbs. She was afraid. Or furious. Or both. He glanced up, remembering far too late that she was only a mere half-step away. She was scrutinising him, her eyes fixed on his face. This close up, he could see the pale green flecks that surrounded her irises. Her expression was blank, save for the faintly calculating look in her eyes.

To his surprise, she looked away first. He'd never seen her back down before. He knew he should be pleased. The test results would finally head in the direction his superiors wanted, and he would be able to go home. But he wasn't pleased. In fact, his feelings were about as far from pleased as it was possible to get. He still didn't understand it, but he was getting tired of fighting it.

Before he could really think it through, he reached out a hand, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn't try and retreat.

"Don't give up," he told her, his voice a whisper wary of being overheard. "_Never _give up."

She didn't bother trying to hide her obvious confusion. He didn't blame her. He knew his behaviour was increasingly erratic. Her expression softened a fraction, becoming a touch more open. She still looked as if she trusted him as far as she could throw him, but there was a tentative spark of hope there now. Hope that perhaps he could be more of an ally than she'd first thought.

Out of nowhere, he felt a wild stab of panic at what he'd done. He'd broken the rules of test subject interaction, given her advice that went against the goal he was supposed to be working towards. If anyone ever found out… And yet, part of him simply didn't care. The part that couldn't help noticing the soft warmth of her skin under his fingertips, the part that was happy to see a flicker of something that might be concern in the depths of her eyes.

Suddenly he felt oafish and impulsive, and he swiftly let go of her chin. "Uh…look, I'm–"

She cut him off, placing a light hand on his forearm. Holding his gaze, she nodded firmly. He couldn't have asked for a more definite reply, even if she had been able to speak.

He gave her a single nod in return.

"I'm going to go up to the office," he said. "When the light turns green, start the test when you're ready."

At his words, her face became the blank, resolute mask he was so familiar with. And for once, he was relieved to see it.

'My God, what have you done to me?' he asked silently.

He received no answer, either from her or from himself. His head was quiet again.


	3. The Confession

**A/N: **This was an interesting chapter to write. I hope it works!

To the guest reviewer: That's good. I'm glad my portrayal of Doug is okay. It's important to me! I enjoyed writing that scene, it's kind of a precursor to Raintalker's painting. Thank you :)

* * *

**Chapter Three – The Confession. **

Chell stood waiting for the light to turn green, her head reeling from everything she'd witnessed in the past twenty minutes. Lawrence dead on a gurney, the look of terror frozen on his face for all eternity. He'd been sweet, far too kind to have died so horrifically. And that woman – Christine – and her off-hand remarks about her ruined project… Chell had never felt a more powerful surge of raw hatred towards a person as she had at that moment. It put her feelings towards Rattmann in perspective. He'd never done anything to make her react that violently. Just lately, he hadn't been as cold and hateful as he'd been in the past. Perhaps he was finally seeing what was happening at the facility, finally having his eyes opened. And what he'd said to her just five minutes ago…

She wondered what on Earth, (or on the moon), had possessed her to acknowledge his comment. His advice, although helpful, was the epitome of the phrase 'too little, too late'. He was a scientist, forcing her to run test after test to check the functions of a device his employers deemed more valuable than human life. But it hadn't escaped her notice that he'd been just as horrified by what they'd seen outside as she had. He even seemed equally disgusted by Christine's reactions, and for the first time in their 110-day-old relationship, he'd looked at her with compassion.

Her first instinct had been suspicion that it was a ploy, a technique to gain her trust for some reason. But then he'd given her an unexpected glimpse into the unstable part of him, the part that had earned him the reputation as 'the crazy one'. Either he was the best actor she'd ever seen, or he was genuine, and he had problems. She wondered briefly if it was something she could exploit, to somehow lead to an escape route, but it wasn't like her to be so devious. It made her feel unclean to even think it, like she was lowering herself to Aperture's standards. She may well get out that way, but she'd lose part of herself. She had so little of herself left that that thought was unacceptable.

The light changed colour, and she entered the airlock through to the test chamber. Once inside, she waited for gravity to disappear. She didn't know what sort of technology kept everyone around the facility grounded, only that they were able to turn it off in certain sections. The moment she felt her weight shift, she kicked off from the ground in the direction of the door into the test chamber. She floated forward like an underwater swimmer, drifting through the door as it opened for her.

Clinging onto the wall with her left hand, she surveyed the room. Turrets, of course. That was what had killed Lawrence. A pool of dried blood still covered the floor, spread out in a dramatic splatter pattern from where the reinstalled gravity had pulled it down. Chell blanched, breathing hard, regaining her composure. She was not squeamish, but it was the thought of the poor man's terror, and the knowledge that she could easily go the same way if she wasn't careful.

Her keen eyes spotted the route she'd have to take past the turrets, where she needed to place her portals. It had taken her a little time to ignore the instinct to look for white portal surfaces, as she'd had to do with the previous device. The new one could fire anywhere. It gave her more freedom for placement, but it also made it more difficult, as the portal surfaces had always provided clues as to the solution to the test. It also meant that she had to be careful when firing, as often she accidentally found herself shooting a portal on the wire mesh that divided the room instead of on the wall behind it. The zero gravity element added another layer of difficulty, as she could only move by giving herself a boost off the surfaces. If she found herself running out of momentum in the middle of a room, it was likely that she'd get stuck and have to wait until she drifted close enough to kick off a wall. In a worst-case scenario, she could easily find herself floating in front of a turret with no means of moving. That was most likely what had happened to Lawrence.

Directing herself, she kicked off from the wall, floating forward towards the mesh fence that split the chamber in half. Aiming the device through the holes, she fired. A blue portal materialised on the wall on the other side. Chell shot an orange one in the wall next to her and pulled herself through it. Shooting portals, keeping herself out of range of the turrets, she made her way up to the cube that would open the door. She undid the straps that were holding it down, and clumsily shifted it through a portal to the receptacle. She slotted it into place, and the door slid open. To get to it, she had to move past the final turret. The only way she could see to do it was the simple way: be faster than it was. Bracing herself, she kicked off from the ground, shooting upwards like a bullet.

"Hello," intoned the turret, its voice sweet but chilling.

The scarlet laser beam cut a scorching line in the wall, missing her heels by inches. She tucked her legs up and manoeuvred herself through the door into the airlock. The door slid shut behind her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good job," came Rattmann's voice from the speakers, and she raised an eyebrow. He never usually spoke to her while she was testing.

She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, and braced herself for the next chamber. His behaviour was puzzling her. Chell didn't like it when things altered suddenly for no apparent reason. It always made her suspicious that something else was going on. She didn't want to be so cynical, especially when it seemed that he'd changed for the better, but she just couldn't help it. It was too deeply ingrained by her past experiences of Aperture Science.

She'd more or less decided that he was having a crisis of conscience. Although she didn't trust him, she was hopeful that it would improve things for her in the long run. Perhaps, if she was actually lucky for once, he would even help her escape. She wasn't pinning her hopes on it, though. Hope was a fragile thing, so easily destroyed. She didn't plan on making herself vulnerable by giving in to it.

He gave her a brief encouraging comment after each of the five tests she worked through. It didn't take her long to come to expect them, and she even found herself feeling grateful for them. She always got a buzz from completing a test, a reaction that she kept well hidden. She didn't enjoy testing, not by a long shot, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction she felt from beating them.

Rattmann was waiting in the equipment room at the end of the chambers when she came through the airlock. She held out her right arm so he could remove the portal device, which he busied himself with straight away.

She found herself studying him as he worked, wondering what it was that had tipped him over the edge to become someone who might one day be on her side. He was closer to her own age than she'd first suspected. Chell had had her twenty-sixth birthday pass unnoticed a few weeks previously. Not that she really minded. Birthdays were just a number to her. A number and an excuse for a large cake, which wasn't an issue anyway because she always bought cake if she wanted it without feeling the need to wait for an occasion. Rattmann looked to be in his mid thirties, and not forty as she'd initially assumed. The shadows beneath his eyes and his permanently serious expression made him appear older.

The moment the angle of his head changed, she dropped her gaze to the floor, not wishing to be caught staring. He lifted the portal device off her arm, and she flexed her stiff fingers before tugging off her gloves. He turned away to lock the device in a secure cupboard, and she worked at the straps of her long fall boots. They were a safety precaution, but one that only worked if she was facing the right way when the gravity came back online. Until they'd installed handles along the ceiling of the airlock, she and some of the other test subjects had found themselves landing on various limbs as soon as the gravity was reactivated. It was a precaution that any other company would have anticipated. Aperture had a very casual relationship with health and safety.

Chell kicked off the boots, nudging them in the direction of the shelf where they were stored. Rattmann picked them up, putting them in their proper place without a word of reprimand. She couldn't care less about their expensive inventions. The boots were damned uncomfortable to wear anyway.

"Your next series of tests will be..." He paused, running a finger down the notes on his clipboard. "Wednesday morning."

Chell shrugged. She didn't know what day it was. Calendars were not included in the minimalist decor of the test subjects' living quarters.

He frowned at her, apparently deciphering her expression. "That's in two days."

She nodded, as if it were neither here nor there. Already, she felt a stab of anxiety uncoil itself in the pit of her stomach. After 110 days of incident-free testing, she felt very much like she was on borrowed time.

"Do you really not know what day it is?" he asked, the insensitive side of him re-emerging.

She glared at him, a retort almost escaping her lips. She bit her tongue.

'Do you really not know what it's like in our part of the station?' she asked silently, because she couldn't quite bring herself to ask it out loud.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a half-sigh, half-grumble. She didn't think it was directed at her.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I'm..." He trailed off, and the silence hung between them. "I'll see you in two days."

She nodded curtly, sweeping out of the room dismissively, as if she was the one in authority. With nothing else to do, she headed to her quarters to use five of her shower minutes before seeing how much time she could eat up by sleeping.

* * *

Doug decided to stop off in the main staff lounge for his allocated three-weekly supplies before heading to write up that day's notes. His prescription was delivered to him because Aperture actually had a semblance of a confidentiality policy, but everything else he had to pick up.

The room wasn't empty like he'd hoped. Three of his co-workers stood there, nursing cups of coffee, and talking in brusque tones that made them sound more important than they were. They were all of a similar age, just shy of forty, and all of them made frequent embarrassing attempts to extend their youth in their choice of slang. Despite their different appearances, Doug had always found them pretty interchangeable.

"...stupid thing to do anyway," one of them, Craig, was saying as he walked in. "Hey, Doug."

Doug nodded to them, heading to the shelves that covered one wall. He located the pile of supplies with his name on, and began checking everything he'd requested was there. He needed a shave.

"Yeah, I know," spoke up Jonathan, a man who flatly refused to let anyone shorten his name. "It's like they pick the most dim people they can find off the street and persuade them to volunteer."

The third, Neil, gave a short bark of laughter. "Well Doug's won't even speak! Will she, Doug?"

Although he knew perfectly well what they were talking about, he glanced up and said innocently, "Huh?"

"Your test subject," Neil elaborated. "She doesn't talk."

"Oh. No, she doesn't."

Jonathan swilled his coffee around the bottom of his mug. "Yeah, I've never understood that. What's she trying to prove?"

Doug gave a non-committal shrug, shaking out an Aperture-logoed paper bag and placing his supply of toiletries inside it.

"God knows," Craig said. "She's probably brain damaged, like Victoria thinks."

"I don't know, she seems pretty self aware to me," Neil put in, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Only seen her a few times, though. She's got one hell of a glare! Does she look at you that way, Doug?"

"Usually," he replied, examining a tube of toothpaste, trying hard not to throw it.

"What's her deal?" Jonathan asked.

"What's any of their deals?" Craig said emphatically, causing Neil, who was a self-labelled grammar freak, to wince. "You'd think they'd be grateful for the chance to be involved in this project. Only a handful of people even know we're up here."

Doug finished packing his bag, and headed over to the kettle. He needed a cup of coffee, and something to do with his hands so that he wouldn't strangle any of them. He'd listened to their derogatory chats before, of course, but now, since he'd seen the fate of Christine's test subject, he had no stomach for it. That, and the fact that any word against his own test subject set his blood boiling.

"Let's face it," Jonathan declared, "they're all freaking stupid. Have you seen the way they walk around this place? They're not people, they're sheep. Sheeple!"

"That's not a word," Neil told him.

"Well it should be! Seriously, though, if we had test subjects that had higher IQs, can you imagine how different the results would be?"

Craig put his cup down, sighing in exasperation. "Yes, genius, but then _you'd_ be a damn test subject. And I'm betting you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Well, no, not _me_, obviously, but just...you know, people who are a bit smarter. I swear, this place has really gone downhill since Mr. Johnson died."

"You say that every time you don't agree with something."

Doug spooned coffee granules into a mug and willed the kettle to boil faster.

"I'm not saying all test subjects are stupid," Jonathan went on, proving once again that he didn't know when to let a topic drop. "It's just that I think they could've made more of an effort for a project of this scale."

"And only three hot chicks among them," Neil said, shaking his head.

"Ugh, for God's sake, Neil, they're _test subjects_," Jonathan spat.

"It's not a dirty word. They're still women under the jumpsuits. And those things leave little to the imagination anyway. Talk about form-fitting! Whoever designed those needs a medal."

"Or an execution," Craig added. "Didn't you notice that not all the female test subjects are slim? _That _is not something you want to be seeing first thing in the morning."

"Wait," Neil interrupted. "Two hot chicks. Not three. There was that redhead, but I've just remembered she got herself killed."

"You must be desperate if you're looking at them," Jonathan said, his tone dripping with superiority. "I feel sorry for you fellas. I tell ya, if Victoria and I weren't such good friends…"

Craig snorted loudly. "Good friends? The whole station knows about you two."

"I'm just saying, I understand that you must be desperate. We've been up here a long time now, you're kinda limited to the women that are around."

"Shut up, man."

"At least there are two test subjects worth looking at," Neil put in. "Better than none, right?"

"I don't know," Craig said with a shrug. "There's no policy about it, but I get the feeling it would be frowned upon to…_distract _the test subjects. When they walk around in those tight jumpsuits, it's just torturing us, isn't it?"

"Nah, I like them."

"Can't you just agree to disagree?" Jonathan asked.

"No," Neil stated firmly. "Say, Doug got one of the hot ones. Is it better or worse, Doug?"

Doug somehow managed to keep his hand steady as he poured water into his coffee cup. He stirred it, scrambling for a diplomatic answer that wouldn't give away how disgusted he was by the whole conversation.

"1498 may be hot," Craig said with a snigger, "but she's a freaking psycho. That glare would put you off!"

"Dude, I thought we established that she's brain damaged," Jonathan said, draining the last of his drink.

"I wouldn't care!" Neil declared. "Just because she's brain damaged, doesn't mean that she can't–"

They all jumped as Doug's spoon clattered onto the metal draining board. His fists were tightly clenched, his knuckles almost the same colour as his lab coat.

"You all right, buddy?" Craig asked.

Doug cleared his throat. "I, uh, I'm not feeling too good. I'm going to go lie down."

"Okay. See you later."

Clutching his bag of supplies in the crook of his arm, Doug departed the room as quickly as his full cup of coffee would allow. His head was reeling. He'd never agreed with their viewpoints, but he'd always been able to let their words flow over him, they'd never affected him before.

'Is this her influence again?' he asked himself. He knew it was. She was influencing every part of his life, sweeping in like a summer storm, changing the landscape. And she didn't even know she was doing it.

His coffee was dangerously close to dripping on the dull grey floor. He had no other outlet for his anger but the shaking of his hands. He paused, leaning back against the wall of the corridor, trying to calm down. It had taken him a while to find his way around the facility. Every corridor looked the same: grey floors, grey doors, grey walls. It was vastly unimaginative. The only splash of colour was the optics of the few cores that could be seen zipping around on the management rails.

The sound of footsteps echoed around the corner, and he turned his head. There came a soft, playful giggle. Instinct told him not to move, and he froze, his hands suddenly still. Peter, his superior, appeared at the end of the corridor, accompanied by a young and pretty member of housekeeping. Doug watched as they disappeared into a room that he was fairly sure was a supply closet. If he had had any lingering doubts about what they were up to, they were eliminated by the sight of Peter tapping the girl lightly on the backside on the way through the door.

Doug didn't move for a long while, processing what he'd seen. Peter's politician wife was busy campaigning back on Earth. Although he didn't like either of them, he felt awkward about what he'd witnessed, and even felt a flutter of sympathy for her. She'd find out eventually. That was always the way it worked. He continued on his way, walking as quietly as he could. There was barely a sound from the closet when he passed it. They were clearly experts at that particular brand of deception.

Finally back in the peace of his own room, he unpacked his supplies and drank his coffee, keeping himself busy to ward off thinking. He didn't much care about Peter's extra curricular activities. It was the conversation he'd overheard that kept playing on his mind. The worst part was, he was in the minority. Most of his co-workers thought the exact same way that Jonathan, Craig and Neil did, blinded by their own self-importance, and the freedom that a lack of morals gave their experiments. Getting results that no other science lab could match swelled their heads, and clouded the fact that they were only able to do what they did because Aperture didn't care who it walked over in its quest for science.

Doug genuinely didn't understand how the company had avoided a lawsuit for so long. Bribery probably had something to do with it. He hadn't really thought too hard about it. He'd just been grateful to find a job where nobody seemed to care much about his condition.

He thought about his test subject, and how furious she'd be if she'd heard what was being said about her and the others.

'You have no one to stick up for you,' he said silently, perching on the bed so he could kick off his shoes. 'And I'm afraid I'm not brave enough to do it. The best I can do is keep out of it. I hope you can forgive me.'

He could partially see himself in the mirror on the wall, and in his mind's eye she appeared behind him, her expression one of disapproval and disappointment. He longed to draw her, to try and expel her from his thoughts, but he didn't dare, for fear of it being found and misinterpreted.

'But it wouldn't be misinterpreted,' a voice said at the back of his mind. 'That's what you're afraid of. Why can't you just admit that you're infatuated?'

Admitting it would be the honest thing to do, but part of him couldn't let go, aware that it complicated things.

'Things are already complicated. In fact, probably more so than if you just acknowledge that you lo-'

Doug jumped to his feet, stomping into the bathroom. He intended to have a shave, to distract himself with the motions of the ritual, but his reflection mocked him the moment he moved in front of the mirror.

'What harm can it do to just say it?'

"What good can it do?"

'Oh, you're actually talking to me. Well that's nice.'

"Just shut up, I know I'm a little overdue on my dosage. I'll deal with it."

'Sure you will. Eventually. Shaving is so much more important, you know.'

Doug ignored it, turning on the hot water. The term was applied loosely. At best, the water was lukewarm.

'Be honest with yourself and I'll go away.'

"No you won't."

'I will. I want you to be honest, Doug. If you're not honest with yourself how can you be honest with others? With her?'

He dabbed shaving gel on his face, fighting to keep his temper in check. It was frankly ridiculous to lose his temper with himself. Especially when deep down, he knew the voice was right. He drew the razor methodically down his cheek, cutting paths through the foam.

The voice apparently had some interest in his welfare, and didn't speak up again until the blade was away from his skin.

'You think about her all the time,' it said persistently. 'You care about what happens to her. You worry about her opinion of you. You don't like it when people say derogatory things about her. You find her attractive. You want to keep her safe and happy. Should I go on? You know what they call all that, don't you?'

He rinsed his face and met his own gaze in the mirror, bracing his hands either side of the sink.

"Leave me alone."

'Admit the truth and I will. It's in your best interests, Dougie. You'll feel better.'

"I'll feel better as soon as I swallow my damn pills and make you disappear."

'Except that it doesn't always work, does it? Trust me, this is the only way to do it. If you didn't want to admit it, I wouldn't even be here. Just do it!'

"Fine! You're right. I...I love her. She clawed her way into my heart and now she's never going to leave. She's in my head. She's in my dreams. She's everything. And she hates me." He paused, breathing hard, his limbs trembling with a mixture of anger and raw emotion. "Now do you see why I didn't want to admit it? Because it _hurts_."

But the voice, as promised, was silent.

He lowered his head, staring into the sink, letting out a long, shaky breath. The truth stung, as he'd known it would. And yet, annoyingly, he felt a weight off his shoulders.

Doug dried his face, and headed back out to take his tablets. He didn't know what to do with his confession now that he'd said it aloud. The chances of her returning his feelings were slim, at best. Unless he proved himself to be an ally and helped her get out of there. He'd be helping himself too, of course. The longing to return to Earth grew stronger on a daily basis. What was becoming increasingly strong, was the urge to tell Aperture Laboratories to stick its job. Perhaps he could do that, save her, and run away somewhere rural to start a new life. He wondered if she'd agree to that. Still, he could dream. He had to find some way to get through the days.

Now that he'd admitted it, he felt able to think about it more openly, without the underlying current of secrecy that he'd felt before. So he loved her. But when had it started? He didn't even know. Seeking answers, he thought back to the first time he'd met her, only a few months ago...

* * *

On the day that the scientists were due to meet their test subjects, Doug awoke with an empty feeling that he was pretty sure was supposed to be filled by anticipation. The project was new, the device more so. He should have been happy to get the ball rolling. But he'd already been there too long. He'd spent a month preparing, settling in to life on the moon. A month, as it turned out, was just enough time for him to get thoroughly fed up with the facility and the people in it.

Everything was grey and monochrome, everywhere he looked. The people were beginning to look that way too, restless and miserable in their monotonous routine. It was always cold there, and that made them all unhappy. Perhaps the arrival of the test subjects would stir things up, but Doug doubted it. He was deeply cynical about his life.

He arrived a few minutes before his appointed timeslot, just as his co-worker, Neil, was exiting the room, two bewildered-looking male test subjects in his wake.

"Doug! Wait til you see yours!"

He frowned, taken aback by the enthusiasm. "What?"

"You've got 1498, right?"

"Yes. So what?"

"She's _gorgeous_! Pouty lips, killer body...my God, are you gonna be distracted!"

Doug rolled his eyes. "I doubt that. I've got work to focus on. You should too."

Neil waved off his comment, jerking a thumb in the direction of his test subjects. "These two agree with me. Eyes on stalks, I'm telling you."

"I never-" one of them began.

"Uh," said Neil sharply. "It's okay. You don't need to talk."

"Screw you," the man spat. "I'm not even meant to be here."

Neil turned on him. Doug couldn't see his face, but the test subject's reaction was one of startled anger.

"Look," Neil told him, his voice low, "don't make me call security this early in the project. You won't like the consequences. You are a test subject. That means you do as I say."

The test subject looked ready to bite back, but the other one kicked him lightly in the shin, shaking his head. The test subject took his partner's advice, albeit grudgingly.

Neil glanced back at Doug, shrugging apologetically. "Just go on in there, you'll agree with me in no time."

"You don't know me _that _well, Neil."

"I know," Neil agreed. "You've got that quiet, brooding and mysterious thing going for you. But trust me, this is not up for debate."

"Right," Doug said sceptically. "Well, we'll see."

"Yeah. See you later."

Neil moved on down the corridor, the test subjects reluctantly following. Doug took a moment to savour his dislike of the man before heading in to collect his own test subject. He glanced down at his notes, to double check if Neil had it right. It seemed he had. His subject was definitely 1498.

The test subjects were being organised in small groups to avoid crowding and confusion. There were only six awaiting collection, two men and four women. They covered a broad range of ages, and the skin-tight orange and white jumpsuit only fitted some of them well.

One of the junior lab technicians was supervising, holding his clipboard in a way that he clearly thought made him look important.

"Ah, Mr. Rattmann. Welcome."

"Morning, Price."

Price examined the chart on his clipboard, running a stubby finger down the list. "Let's see...Douglas Rattmann...ah yes, 1498."

Doug nodded, resisting the urge to say 'I could have told you that'. Sarcasm rarely helped in maintaining good relations with co-workers. He'd eventually been forced to accept that.

Price turned to the group. The low chatter amongst them had stopped.

"1498," he announced. "1498, that's you, honey."

The woman in question scowled at him, wrenching her arm out of his helpful grasp. He actually recoiled, just a little, recovering quickly and fixing her with a frown.

"Come on, there's no need for that. This is Mr. Rattmann. He'll be your supervising scientist for the duration of your time here."

Doug studied her, hoping his curiosity wasn't too obvious. Reluctantly, he had to admit that Neil was right. She was stunning, but Doug suspected his reasons for thinking so were different than Neil's. Her fierce glare marred the beauty of her face, but it was her eyes that made her striking. They were as cold and hard as steel, and almost the same colour. Despite their iciness, there was a spark of fire there, an almost hidden strand of something he identified as fury. Although what she had to be angry about, he had no idea. She had volunteered for testing. They all had.

She was studying him too, but her expression carefully hid what she thought, aside from that she appeared to hate both him and Price. He wondered what he'd done to deserve that.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, offering a hand for her to shake.

She didn't take it, and didn't answer.

"She, uh, she doesn't speak," Price told him. "It says so in her file. Here." He handed the folder over.

Doug flipped it open, scanning the first page. 'Name: Chell [REDACTED]' it read.

"Why is her surname redacted?" he asked.

"She wouldn't tell us what it is."

"Why not?"

Price looked disconcerted by his questioning. "I don't know. Sorry. You'd have to ask her."

They both glanced up at her. She quirked a challenging eyebrow. Doug decided to accept the obvious: she was going to make his work more difficult than it needed to be.

"Okay. No surname. Fine. Follow me, please. Thank you, Price."

When he started walking, he half expected her to obstinately stay put, and was relieved to hear the almost-silent steps of her bare feet. He led her to the chamber where she'd be doing her introductory test. Inside the equipment room, he turned to face her. Her scowl had disappeared, but she still looked sullen, her expression arctic.

"You've used long fall boots before, I assume?" he asked.

She didn't acknowledge him. She didn't look confused, so he gathered she had. Doug checked her shoe size in her file and found her a pair. He wasn't sure what he'd do if she didn't put them on. He didn't much like the thought of wrestling her into them, as if she was a petulant child who didn't want to go to school. Her general behaviour so far was well into childish territory. It puzzled him no end, and he wondered if he'd spend all his time thinking about that rather than focusing on her test results.

He turned away to find her some gloves. When he looked back, she was strapping the boots on. Doug offered up a silent word of thanks to the universe. He handed her the gloves, which she snatched away, and headed over to the cabinet where the prototype portal device was stored. He swiped his I.D. card and removed it, holding it awkwardly in both hands. It was peculiarly balanced, possibly a snag to iron out in later models.

"I see from your file that you're familiar with the A.S.H.P.D.," he said. "This one is different. Rather than being handheld, it attaches to your wrist."

She was watching keenly, absorbing the information. So she certainly wasn't stupid, despite her juvenile conduct. He went on with his demonstration.

"Hold your right arm out, please."

She shot him a withering look, but did as he said. He slid the device into place and tightened the clasps. She was studying it curiously, testing the weight of it, examining the narrow barrel that made it a little too top-heavy, the focusing points that hovered above and below her hand. It was much smaller than the previous model, but somehow the weight had stayed the same. Doug gently turned her hand over, making sure the triggers fit snugly in her palm. If she curled her fingers into a fist, she could easily reach them.

"This is how you fire it. Blue portal, orange portal. Got it?"

Again, she didn't acknowledge him. He was already getting used to it. He let go of her arm, which lurched a little as she took up the entire weight.

"There are a few other elements that make this device different to the previous model. Firstly, it's more fragile, so be careful. Secondly, it's a prototype, so let me know if you notice any glitches. Most importantly, it can fire onto any surface. Living materials are the exception so far, but apart from that, anything goes. The tests will no longer contain specific portal surfaces."

She looked at him, her expression thoughtful. Raising her arm, she fired a blue portal into the wall in front of her. With a glint in her eyes that had him leaping instinctively backwards, she shot an orange one at his feet. Sometimes, it did pay to be paranoid.

He shot her a frown. She met his gaze, the challenge unmistakeable. Part of him relished it. His days certainly wouldn't be so tedious from now on.

"Okay," he said calmly, "so you know what you're doing. That'll help. Enter the airlock. You're ready for your preliminary test."

Her expression hardened, and she stepped through the door, the emancipation grille cancelling out the portals.

"Oh," he added, "one more thing: these tests are conducted in zero gravity."

Her eyes widened in surprise, just a little, but enough to indicate that _something _got through to her. He counted it as a victory.

"Good luck."

She glared at him until the door cut her off from view. Doug considered everything that had occurred, and found himself almost wanting to smile. She would be hard work, he could tell, and he knew he might never understand her behaviour. But one thing was perfectly clear: he wasn't going to be bored.

* * *

Doug couldn't quite bring himself to smile at the memory itself, but something did become painfully evident in hindsight: she'd hooked him right from the start, purely by accident. He'd been fascinated. And he still was, he could accept it now. What remained unclear was just what he was going to do about it.

* * *

**A/N: **Even though they'll never see this, I want to apologise to the other people who work in the same building as me whose names I borrowed. They're all very nice people who unknowingly donated their names to some nasty characters!


	4. The Apology

**A/N: **This chapter was powered by peppermint tea :)

To my guest reviewer: Thank you :) I love Raintalker's art so much! With regards to Doug's mirror scene, it's kind of ambiguous how much of it is from his condition and how much is just him stressing about his feelings. He's medicated, remember, but I wanted to put across the idea that it's not always as effective as he'd like, especially when he's under pressure. If he was off the medication, then yes, he'd definitely be dealing with doubts and taunts from the voices.

* * *

**Chapter Four – The Apology.**

Nine days after Chell had made her ill-fated escape attempt, she found herself rebelling again, but unlike before, it was totally by accident. The tests were going well, but they were the most challenging she'd ever faced, requiring every scrap of her concentration. A slight slip caused her to boost off the wall at the wrong angle, sending her drifting far closer to the guarding turret than she'd intended. Before it could fire at her, she swung her right arm, hitting it with the portal device. The gun sparked, tightening on her arm, sending a few tiny pieces of debris floating away. The turret announced a critical error and shut itself down. She glanced at the device, cringing as it sparked again.

"I think you've just declared a break," came Rattmann's voice over the speakers. "I'm turning the gravity on."

Chell nodded, bracing herself.

The voice of the A.I. announcer filled the room. "Gravity active in three, two, one."

She felt her weight shift, and she dropped like a stone, landing safely as the boots absorbed the shock. The door at the end of the room slid open, and Rattmann entered, clutching his folder of notes and looking slightly stressed. The pieces from the device had landed nearby, and he crouched down, picking them all up. Chell felt an absurd instinct to help him, which she immediately quashed.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you that that was against the rules?" he said conversationally.

She shook her head, shrugging.

"I know. It was you or it. I understand. But my superior probably won't."

Chell pulled a face, indicating how much she didn't care about his superior's opinion. He didn't look up, but she got the impression he knew what she was doing. That suspicion was confirmed by his next comment.

"You can stand there and glare at my back all you want, I'm not the one who designed these tests."

'No,' she thought, 'but you _are_ the one making me solve them.'

He finished gathering the pieces and straightened up. "Come on. I need to get that thing off your arm and fix it before anyone notices."

She raised her brows in surprise, but then remembered what his superior had said about him taking responsibility for her actions. He was probably protecting himself more than her. Still, it was a positive side effect.

"They're just going to think you did it on purpose," he went on.

She'd figured that out herself.

"And they'll probably yell at me too."

That caught her off guard. She tried not to let it show.

They crossed the room to the exit, taking a back route through to the equipment room. The attendant was absent, and Chell guessed that Rattmann must have already dismissed him. She pulled off her left glove with her teeth, and held out her right arm. He frowned, examining the device, and she wondered how much damage she'd caused. She didn't much care, but she was curious. He struggled with the clasps for a while before unexpectedly bursting into laughter. Chell gawked at him, concerned that he'd finally descended into insanity.

"It's stuck," he told her between sniggers. "It won't come off."

She resisted the urge to swipe at him, unable to see what was so amusing about it. The damn thing had dug itself into her arm, and it was beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry!" he went on, the meaning of the words getting lost. "It's just...only you. Nobody else could have gotten themselves into this situation."

Chell frowned slightly, detecting a hint of something that sounded like pride in his voice. It confused her. He met her gaze, trying to control his laughter without a huge amount of success. She felt the corners of her lips twitch against her will. She was struck by the way his amusement transformed his face. The hard lines fell away, his eyes shone brighter, the dark circles becoming less noticeable, making him seem younger, more approachable. If she had been feeling brutally honest, she would have admitted that she kind of liked it.

"Okay," he said, pausing to make sure he was suitably serious. "I'm going to have to sneak you into the lab."

Incredulous, she raised a sarcastic eyebrow, gesturing to the bright orange on her jumpsuit.

"I know, I know, but I don't have any other option."

She held up her free hand, indicating, 'Fine, whatever.'

"Just keep your head down and follow me."

After shedding her long fall boots, she did as he instructed, trying not to appear too inquisitive as he led her through a part of the facility she'd never seen before. They didn't meet many people, and those they did were too wrapped up in their own business to notice her. A blue-optic core eyed her curiously as it zipped past on the overhead management rail, but said nothing about her presence there. Finally, they reached the door they needed. Rattmann swiped his I.D. card, and they left the corridor. He locked the door behind them, just in case.

The room was small and brightly lit. Its dazzling, sterile white walls were such a contrast to the corridors that Chell had to take a few moments for her eyes to adjust. There was an angled drawing board, and a workbench, scattered with tools, and various bits and pieces. The walls were dotted with helpful warning signs, as well as one or two bizarre motivational posters.

'Is grinding up moon rocks too expensive?' asked one. 'Why not just go to the moon?' Underneath was a disturbing image of the moon, sporting a face with two portals in place of eyes.

'Know your allergens,' stated another. 'Pollen. Animal dander. Plastics. Anti-Matter.'

Chell wrinkled her nose and turned away.

"I know," said Rattmann, taking in her expression. "We're obliged to put those up. Take a seat." He gestured to a tall stool by the side of the workbench.

She hopped up onto it, resting her right arm on the chipped wooden surface. The footrest was cold against her bare feet, but then everything here was cold. Rattmann flicked on a desk lamp, angling it so the beam shone down on the device. Chell glanced at him sceptically, hoping he knew what he was doing. She didn't like the idea of having the darned thing fastened to her wrist for all eternity.

He looked at her briefly before turning back to the device. "Don't worry. I helped design this. I'd say fixing it shouldn't be a problem, but knowing you..." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if I have to write it off."

She frowned, but he shot her a quick smile that let her know he was joking. The concept was practically alien to her after so many weeks of his coldness and insensitivity. She wasn't one to bear a grudge though, Aperture Laboratories excepted, and she preferred his kindness to the way he was before. So she gave a small smile in return, dropping it quickly before the situation could get any more strange.

He worked in silence for a while, and she watched, noting how precise he was about which components went where, setting himself a map on the desktop.

"You, uh, were doing well up until this happened," he said at length. "In case you were wondering."

Chell nodded. She knew she'd been doing well. She was still alive.

"I...er, I wasn't always fair on you before. In the beginning, I mean. I didn't really appreciate how much of a trial those tests are. I'm sorry."

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. When he glanced up, she settled for a diplomatic nod.

"Look," he went on, "I shouldn't be saying this to you, but I'm starting to see what's going on here. And it isn't what it should be. Not if this company had a shred of decency in it. I've been...well, disillusioned is too kind a word. Blind. Stupid." He gave a quiet huff of a sigh. "What I'm trying to say is that I see why you're fighting back. But you shouldn't draw so much attention to yourself. It could have negative effects."

'I have to,' she thought in response. 'What else can I do?'

"Once I get back to Earth, I've had it with this company. I'm walking the moment I get off the shuttle."

Chell looked at him in surprise. She would never have guessed that he felt that strongly about Aperture, as if he hated them as much as she did.

"God, I shouldn't have told you that either," he said, lowering his screwdriver and rubbing his eyes. "Well, I'm guessing that you won't go telling anyone. I'd appreciate that."

She found herself nodding in agreement. She didn't want to betray his trust. That thought was strange too.

"Thanks."

Chell shot him another brief smile, and he returned it, holding her gaze just a little too long. A ripple of suspicion swept through her mind, but he turned back to his work before she could attempt to read anything in his expression.

"I know you can talk," he said, moving the light, his eyes darting here and there as he assessed the damage. "If you were truly mute, you'd probably know sign language."

She crossed her legs, resting her free elbow on her knee, propping her chin on her hand. He was right, of course. She wouldn't even know where to begin with sign language.

"It's okay," he continued. "It's your decision. But if you do decide to talk…well, you've probably got a lot to say that I should probably listen to. And if that happens to involve a few colourful words, I figure I deserve them."

Chell glanced up at him, pondering. She was cautiously growing to like this new Doug Rattmann, who shared so many of her own opinions about Aperture. Although she still wasn't sure about him, part of her instinctively knew that there'd come a time when she would talk to him. But it wasn't today.

"You must absolutely hate me," he muttered, almost to himself. He sounded thoroughly convinced, and quite dejected about the fact.

Chell shook her head. She didn't hate him. She never had, although she'd never really understood why, all things considered.

He lifted his head, eyes wide in surprise. "Really?"

She shrugged, self-conscious.

"You're much more generous than I'd be," he confessed.

Chell didn't feel particularly generous, but she accepted the compliment with another shrug.

He worked in silence for a while, and she studied the room. For a science lab, it wasn't very interesting. It was more like a personal work room. It was obviously only him that used it, as she recognised his handwriting on the papers stuck up on the notice board. She figured the other scientists had rooms like it as well. There was a used coffee cup weighing down some notes on a shelf. He took his coffee black, she noticed, observing the drip marks down the side. So did she.

"Any thoughts on what I can tell Peter about what happened to the turret?" he spoke up suddenly.

She smiled wryly, shaking her head. That was his problem. She wasn't _that _generous.

"I guess I'll think of something. Natural causes, maybe."

Chell gave a silent snigger, just a quick huff of breath.

"Not plausible? Okay. Judging by this, you gave it one hell of a whack."

She pulled a face. The thing had been about to kill her, of course she'd hit it hard.

"Not that you would, but don't worry about it. We have spares in storage. It'll just get replaced."

Chell rolled her eyes. 'Yeah,' she thought, 'that's just _great_.'

He shot her a sidelong glance from where he was bending over his work. "That's what I thought you'd say. Well...you know what I mean."

'Getting to be an expert at reading my face, are you, Mr. Rattmann?' she asked in her head. 'There's no need to be so smug. I'm not exactly subtle.'

Still, she couldn't deny that it was nice to have a conversation of sorts, even if it was mostly one-sided. At the beginning, she'd had the other test subjects to talk to, but then they'd given up, becoming almost entirely introverted. Now they barely spoke a word. Their quarters had become as silent as a tomb.

She couldn't imagine ever giving up herself, but sometimes it was tempting. In her heart of hearts she knew that she probably wouldn't survive testing. One mistake would be all it would take, and she wasn't perfect. It would be easier, kinder, to just give up and accept it, but she knew herself too well. She'd go down fighting, rebelling, screaming her outrage to the world. Well, to the moon. And her friends would be told a lie about a tragic accident, if they hadn't been told that already. 119 days was a long time to be missing. For the first time, she was grateful that she didn't have a family worrying about her.

Chell gave a quiet sigh. The danger, the monotony, and the hopelessness of it all got to her sometimes. She always fought it, used it as incentive to keep going, but she still felt it. And every time, it wore her down just a little bit more. Eventually she knew she'd break. Everyone had their breaking point. She was just hoping that she'd die before they found hers. She didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Doug lowered his tools, frowning slightly as he studied her. He stared at the desk momentarily, seemingly gathering his thoughts before looking back up.

"I know I can't possibly relate to what you're going through," he began. "But you should know, I want to get out of here too. If I think of a way, I'll make sure that we _both _go. I owe you that much."

Unexpectedly, she felt a wave of warmth and gratitude towards him. She didn't dare pin her hopes on what he'd said, but the fact that he'd said it meant more to her than she wanted to admit. She tentatively reached out, placing her left hand on his forearm. He stiffened like a startled cat, and she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

He glanced down at her hand before meeting her gaze. She nodded, smiling, knowing it was the best thank you she could give at that moment. Perhaps in the future, if he succeeded, she'd thank him in words. She didn't think it was likely, though. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit, but observing what was going on wasn't enough. If he didn't start acting, he'd never get home. And she would die in a test chamber.

She broke eye contact, withdrawing her hand, feeling a little foolish but unsure as to why. She wondered if she ought to be thinking more positively, but she was always wary of disappointment. Sometimes it could be more crushing than sorrow or anger.

Doug continued with his repairs, removing a series of tiny screws and transistors. After another period of silence, he spoke up again.

"I never really intended to be a scientist. When I was younger, I always thought I'd be a librarian, something quiet and peaceful. But the science bug bit me. I was fascinated, couldn't stop studying how things are created, how the universe works. Then when I was diagnosed, I started to think that I could find a cure somehow."

She frowned, confused as to why he was confiding in her, feeling absurdly flattered that he was, and puzzled as to what he was trying to cure.

A look of practiced wariness crossed his face. "I...uh...I have schizophrenia. Controlled. Mostly."

Chell nodded, slotting the knowledge into place. A lot of things made more sense. They called him 'the crazy one', which, she now thought, didn't really seem fair.

"A lot of people judged me by it," he said, his tone a little too blank to be entirely natural. "Still do, actually, although I've grown a thicker skin. Not everyone does, I should point that out. Most of my co-workers don't seem to care. But earlier in my life I lost out on a lot of opportunities because of it." He dropped his screwdriver with a clatter, and picked it back up. "I don't really know why I'm telling you all this," he confessed, sending her a small apologetic smile. "I want you to understand, I guess. I wasn't always...how I have been. I got...bitter. With the world and everyone in it. Being judged for a condition that I didn't want, and certainly couldn't help, was so unfair. I just wanted to lash out. I couldn't do that, so I protected myself. I just thought of myself, blocked out anything to do with anyone else, telling myself that I didn't care. It got easier, I'm ashamed to admit."

Chell found herself awkwardly sympathising with him, understanding why he'd acted the way he had. Part of her didn't want to. It had been far easier to resent him before she'd understood why. But now...she couldn't even swear that she wouldn't have done the same in his position.

"Anyway, I had a moment of realisation...that that wasn't me. The man I'd become...wasn't the man I was. And wasn't the man I wanted to be." He placed the screwdriver on the desk, tampering with the device with his long, ink-stained fingers. "You actually triggered that."

She looked at him sharply, feeling the frown cross her brow. He didn't glance up, but she could see from the faint blush on his cheek that he was aware of her stare.

"Every day, in every test, I'd see you keep fighting. You never give up, never let yourself become what Aperture wants you to be: compliant, hassle-free...disposable. It made me reassess my own life. I didn't fight like you. I got defensive, and I nearly lost myself. Well not anymore. I'm done with being that person. It's going to take time, but I'll learn to fight."

Even if she'd been inclined to speak, she wouldn't have known what to say to a declaration like that.

"I just wanted you to know that you've made a difference here. Even if it's only with me. And that I'm sorry for being an asshole and treating you the way I did."

Chell considered his words. She forgave him, she realised. She hadn't even thought about it, it had just happened. But she couldn't tell him. The words simply wouldn't come out, and she still wasn't even sure about breaking her silence. While her right hand was trapped, she couldn't write it down either, although that seemed a little cheap somehow. Fortunately, he seemed to pick up on her dilemma.

"I know you may never forgive me, but-"

She shook her head, and he glanced up.

"What?" His eyes widened a fraction. "You _do _forgive me?"

Hoping her sincerity was visible in her eyes, she gave a nod.

"Why?"

She sent him an exasperated look, and he laughed briefly.

"Sorry. Not that I'm not glad. Overwhelmingly, actually. But I'm surprised."

Chell shrugged. It wasn't something she could explain.

"Okay, I get it. Thank you. I don't think I deserve it, but I will, I promise you."

She didn't have time to react to that, as he gave a grunt and tugged the clasps of the device open. Feeling flooded back into her numb hand, tingling its way along her fingers. She wiggled them experimentally.

"There we go."

Chell breathed a sigh of relief. It had been surprisingly painful. She lifted her arm out of the device. He caught it, gripping it gently just before the elbow.

"Is that blood?" he said, frowning.

Chell figured it was a rhetorical question, since he was already examining her wrist. He peeled off her glove and rolled her sleeve up. Her skin was dotted with bruises, bleeding from a cut across her wrist where a fragment of metal had scraped it.

"Why didn't you let me know?" he asked.

She fixed him with a relatively blank stare, unsure what to convey. It hadn't been bothering her that much, and he wouldn't have been able to get the damned thing off her any faster.

Doug crossed the room to the shelves, full of dull-looking scientific textbooks, and took a medi kit from the top. Chell bit her lip, slightly embarrassed at the fuss he was making. He pulled an antiseptic wipe from its packet and began to clean the cut. She tried not to wince at the sting of it.

"Sorry, did that hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Liar."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he smiled.

"You don't always have to be tough as nails, you know."

She nodded, thinking, 'I do.'

"You'll always be strong. Admitting that you're in pain won't change that."

She knew he was right, but somehow it was easier to keep up the facade. He threw the antiseptic wipe in the direction of the trash, and rifled around in the kit. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, pulling out a roll of surgical tape and a small pair of scissors. He cut strips and gently pressed them into place, closing the cut.

Chell watched him work, studying what she could see of his face as he bent over her arm. His fingers were cold, but so was her skin. He was trying so hard to change, she couldn't help but be touched by it. That, coupled with all the other little things she kept noticing about him, meant that he would be occupying her thoughts for a long while. She knew herself well enough to realise that. They were on the same side. They hadn't always been, but they were now. Whatever happened to her, and she was still convinced that it wouldn't be good, she was comforted knowing she had an ally.

He wrapped gauze around her wrist, tying it securely, then carefully rolled her sleeve back down. She bobbed her head in thanks. He met her gaze, a spark of earnestness in his mismatched eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry this happened, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to talk to you. I can't pretend to know what your life is like here, but...just...you're not alone, okay?"

Chell smiled, a small, slightly despondent smile. She had no reason to linger there now, and she dreaded going back to the silence of the living dead. She almost laughed at the complete turnaround of preferring his company to theirs. Perhaps she should have scolded herself for her own fickleness, but she didn't have the energy or inclination for it. Moreover, she didn't care.

"I'm going to say that you beat that test," Doug told her.

'Doug', she noticed, not 'Rattmann'. She'd been referring to him by his first name without even realising.

"But I can't get you out of the others, you'll have to go back and do them tomorrow."

She sighed, but nodded. She understood why he couldn't get her out of the tests, and she supposed it would feel different knowing that he had her back. In whatever capacity he was able, of course.

"I'll escort you out. If you're ready."

Chell slipped down off the stool, cringing as her feet hit the cold tiles. She followed him back through the corridors, depressingly grey and dull after the bright white room, out into the main thoroughfare.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, by way of a parting.

Nodding, she watched him turn and disappear back through the door. She was actually sorry to see him go, she realised.

'Honestly,' she scolded herself, beginning the tedious walk back to her quarters, 'the first sign of kindness and you become as clingy as a limpet!'

But kindness was attractive, she'd always thought that. And he...well. Before the past week or so, she'd managed to be intrigued without particularly caring. Now she did care. Only a little, but enough to send her mind wandering where she'd rather it didn't.

'You really want your life to be any more complicated?' she asked internally.

But she disregarded it almost at once. She didn't care about complication. In fact, with her life as monotonous as it was, she wasn't at all sure that complication wasn't part of the attraction.

'No,' she thought, being excruciatingly honest with herself, 'it's just him. And you thought it before, you just felt guilty about it because he was an asshole.'

She didn't know what would come of it, if anything, but she looked forward to finding out. Maybe that was foolish, she didn't know. But anything to keep from thinking about the next test.

* * *

**A/N: **I really liked the idea of Chell accidentally vandalising Aperture property, as opposed to canon where she does it on purpose! Then it became clear that it was a good excuse for a little Chell/Doug bonding. I like it when that happens.


	5. The Prophet

**A/N: **A little cameo for you :)

To the guest reviewer: Thank you :) Doug is pretty mixed up right now. Angry, ashamed, guilty, concerned...the list goes on! He's definitely more clear-headed now though.

* * *

**Chapter Five – The Prophet.**

She had completed the run of tests with no further problems. Doug studied her results, feeling a surge of pride, laced with a touch of smugness. She would show them all, his brilliant, tenacious test subject. He supposed he shouldn't put her on such a high pedestal, but he couldn't help it. She was doing everything he wished he could: rebelling, refusing to back down, standing up for what she believed was right.

He wasn't due to see her until the next series of tests, where he would be discovering if discouragement redirection cubes were as effective in zero gravity. At least she would have fun blowing up turrets.

His watch told him it was 8:32am, but all hours looked the same here. He was thoroughly fed up of not seeing a proper morning. Reluctantly, he went in search of food, not looking forward to eating defrosted bread, (now with added chemical aftertaste!), but hungry enough that he couldn't skip it.

On the way, he heard his name called from an open door. Doubling back, he halted in the doorway to one of the three staff lounges. It was Alan, one of the more bearable of his co-workers, his impossibly huge green eyes sparkling with amusement. His blond hair was as finely crafted as always, specially manipulated over several hours to look like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"Doug! You gotta see this!"

Doug peered around him, noticing the turret for the first time.

"I've seen turrets before, Alan. It'd better not be activated."

"This one's glitching on an epic scale, man. It's talking!"

"They all talk."

"Yeah, but you should hear the stuff it's coming out with!"

"I'm different!" chirped the turret on cue.

Doug frowned, and Alan grinned in a 'told you so' sort of way, moving to stand in front of it, gesturing unnecessarily towards it.

"Don't go down there!" it advised.

"It said that earlier," Alan told him, scratching his ear. "I don't know what it means."

"She's awake."

"Who's 'She'?" Doug asked, stepping forward for a closer look. He felt the capital letter was deserved, based on the way the word had been said.

"Don't know."

The turret's faulty, blinking laser sight shifted to regard him.

"She's the one," it said, and he got the feeling it was a different 'she' to the one it had mentioned before. He also got the feeling that he knew who it meant. "You've already learned that which can save you," it went on.

An uncomfortable trickle of unease made its way up his spine. He wondered how the turret had gotten around its set speech programming, and how it could possibly be saying what it seemed to be saying.

"She'll tell you," it said, "but she'll say nothing."

The unfamiliar feeling of being spooked began to creep in. Doug wasn't brave, but he didn't exactly scare easily. When you heard voices in your head, you tended to stop being scared of petty things.

"Where's it headed?" he asked Alan, pushing past his discomfort.

"It'll go back on the next shuttle, to the redemption line. It's no good to us here."

"It's not fixable?"

"Not worth it. You've seen how many we have in storage, and they keep sending them."

Doug eyed it, then looked back at Alan. "You're not keeping it?"

"Hell no! It's freaking me out!"

"I'm going to breakfast, are you coming?"

"Nah," Alan said, waving the offer aside. "I'm gonna stay here and see what else it says."

"You just said it was freaking you out."

"It is, but I'm weirdly fascinated! It's like a fortune cookie on legs!"

Doug shook his head and left him to it. Alan's irrepressible enthusiasm always made him feel older than his thirty-five years.

"Remember," he heard the turret say as he continued down the corridor.

He shuddered. He wasn't superstitious, by any means, but he couldn't help feeling like he'd just heard a prophet. A white, football-shaped prophet that was initially intended to fire deadly lasers. He scoffed, making a passing core blink its optic in surprise. The whole thing was ridiculous. And yet, strangely unnerving.

He reached the canteen, made coffee, toasted two pieces of unappetising bread, then slathered them with butter, hoping to mask the taste. He was just about to sit down at an empty table when he caught sight of Peter beckoning to him. Repressing a groan, he obligingly approached his table.

"Morning, Rattmann."

"Good morning, sir."

"Take a seat."

Doug did as he was told, joining Peter's assistant Mark, Jonathan, Victoria, Christine, and a robotics expert he didn't know very well, Harshad.

"Sorry I couldn't give you more notice about this informal meeting," Peter began.

'_Any_ notice would have been nice,' Doug thought irately, taking a small bite of his toast.

"I'm gradually finding time to talk to everyone about the status of their projects, to see what we can do to keep moving forward. So, let's start with you, Drake."

Christine swallowed a mouthful of tea, and curled her manicured hands around her mug. Her flawless nails were beginning to chip, he noticed. No beauty salons on the moon.

"Well, uh, I'm afraid my project's still on hold until I can get another test subject. I'd gotten quite close to–"

"No, no, no," Peter interrupted. "We don't have time for you to start over. You can go back on the next shuttle. In the meantime, I want reports on everything you learned, as well as what went wrong. In your own words."

Christine pressed her lips so tightly together they almost disappeared. She nodded once and asked to be excused, vanishing as soon as the affirmative was out of Peter's mouth.

"Right," he said, stirring three sugars into his coffee. "Are you getting this down, Mark?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Davis, Cresswell."

Jonathan and Victoria sat a little straighter in their seats.

"Your project is about done, am I right?"

Victoria nodded, her caramel curls dancing around her shoulders. "Yes, sir. We've established the way our test subjects react to being limited in their portal placement. They all admitted defeat after a certain point."

"There wasn't as much initiative used as we expected," Jonathan put in.

"Not really surprising," Peter muttered. "Are your test subjects still with us?"

"Yes, sir, all five of them."

"Hmm. We'll have to do something about that. Can't have them running to Black Mesa with what they've seen up here."

"We understand, sir," Victoria assured.

Doug stared down into the dark depths of his coffee, not trusting himself enough to look at any of them, not trusting himself enough to let his mind process what he was hearing.

"You can go back to Earth on the next shuttle. Well done, both."

Jonathan and Victoria exchanged triumphant smiles and left the table.

"Rattmann."

"Sir." He was impressed at how level his voice sounded.

"What's going on with your project?"

Doug shifted in his seat, not taking his eyes off his coffee cup. It was safer that way.

"As you know, I changed the direction of my project when the personality of my test subject became clear. I'm still progressing through the test chambers. So far, she shows no sign of an altered attitude. I estimate I should have something concrete in a couple of months. Either she'll break or we'll run out of chambers."

Anything to buy her more time.

"Sounds like you've got a pretty solid plan in place, kid."

Doug nodded wordlessly, not appreciating being called 'kid' by a man less than fifteen years older than he was.

"Keep it up, I'll check back with you in a month."

"Yes, sir."

"Shah," Peter barked, already dismissing him. "What've you got?"

As Harshad quietly began to relay, Doug got to his feet, gathering his breakfast.

"Uh, sir? Sorry to interrupt."

Automatically, they all turned to regard the newcomer. It was Wayne, a junior technician that Doug didn't know well.

"What is it, Kinsey?"

"The shuttle didn't send the right amount of Alpha-Two-Seven. We've just done a stock count. We're going to run out before the next supply batch arrives." He ran a nervous hand through his bright orange hair, almost wilting under the heat of Peter's glare.

"Can't we just manufacture it ourselves? This is supposed to be a science lab, for crying out loud."

"Um…no, sir. We don't have the right ingredients."

Peter growled softly in his throat, as if the entire world was out to irritate him. "Did you subtract the test subjects that we're about to lose?"

"Yes, sir, we already did that. We're still going to run out."

"We're about to lose another five, will that...no, never mind. Just…cut it down to once a day."

Wayne frowned. "Are we sure they can function on that?"

"That's none of your damned business, Kinsey. Get back to work."

Wayne bowed his head meekly, already backing away. "Yes, sir."

Doug picked up his coffee and also departed, forcing himself to maintain a steady pace as he exited the room. He needed privacy. Wayne was leaning on the wall outside, taking deep breaths. He straightened up as Doug came into view, his cheeks flushing crimson.

"Sorry, Mr. Rattmann, I was just–"

"It's okay, Kinsey."

He continued on his way, lost in a swarm of worrying thoughts. Gradually he became aware that Wayne was walking in the same direction, making sure to keep a few steps behind him. He halted, turning.

"Kinsey, walk with me."

"Um…okay." The anxious young man hurried to catch up.

"What's Alpha-Two-Seven?" Doug asked as they went. He was getting fed up of Aperture's unnecessary need-to-know policies.

"It's the drug we give the test subjects, Mr. Rattmann, the nutritional compound."

Doug stopped walking abruptly, fixing Wayne with a sharp glance. "Nutritional compound? You're saying they don't get food?"

"No, they just get water. Didn't you know?"

"I didn't need to know," he said, feeling incredibly dense. "And I never bothered to find out. Damn it."

He'd been so caught up in his own issues, wanting to leave, realising everything that made him want to change, that he'd neglected to check how the test subjects were being treated. He still had a way to go before he became who he wanted to be.

"How often do they get this shot?" he asked.

"Twice a day at the moment, but as you just heard, we're going to cut it down."

"This could affect the test results," Doug said, because it was expected of him.

"I was worried about that," Wayne admitted, adopting a sarcastic tone. "But apparently it's none of my business." His face changed at once, his eyes becoming wide and horror-struck. "I didn't mean any disrespect. Oh God, please don't report me!"

"I didn't hear a thing."

The red-haired technician visibly sagged in relief. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Rattmann. I won't forget this!"

Doug gave him a nod, rounding the corner and disappearing into his room. He had a lot to think about. He finished his cold toast without noticing, his mind whirling with what he'd learned. A stab of icy fear entered his chest and refused to leave.

She might die. That had always been the case, the tests being what they were, but now…even if she beat every single test chamber there was no guarantee that she'd be allowed to return to Earth. He'd bought her a month, at least. Surely he could think of some way out before then. He had to save her. She didn't deserve this. None of them did, but the others were already dead, their spirits irretrievable from whatever pit of despair they'd descended to.

He could kick himself for his blindness, his foolish naivety. Not just about the way the test subjects were living, but for not considering that they were civilians in a top secret science experimentation facility. There were personnel at Aperture on the surface who weren't even aware that the station existed, and they were staff members who'd all signed non-disclosure agreements. Combined with Aperture's company-wide paranoia that their competitors were ruthless secret-stealers, he should have foreseen how things would pan out for the test subjects.

'You're an idiot, Doug Rattmann,' a voice whispered. It wasn't one of _the _voices. Just his own, berating himself.

He glanced down at his empty plate, blinking in surprise. He didn't remember finishing the toast. Considering what he'd just discovered about the lack of food for the test subjects, it felt tactless to eat. He couldn't help feeling guilty, and he shoved the plate away.

A cloud of hopelessness descended, and saving her seemed an impossible task. Still, he knew he had to try. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't. But he had to be careful. Too much outward change and someone would smell a rat. Everyone stuck to their own business up here, security was lax, but he knew not to push his luck. He had to remain cautious. And he couldn't tell her, couldn't raise her hopes.

His mind still felt like a curl of smoke, drifting, unfocussed, a swirling mass of particles caught in a forceful breeze. But through the haze, several things were abundantly clear. He had to get away from Aperture, get back to Earth, distribute multiple copies of his resignation, then leave it all behind. And he had to take her with him. She'd disappear once she was free, he was almost certain. She'd go and he'd never see her again. But he'd know she was alive, and alive because of him, and he'd be content. He wouldn't be happy, but he'd try for content. He couldn't be happy if she left him alone. Not now he'd realised how much he wanted her in his life, on equal grounds. But he loved her. It felt as if he always would. And that meant he'd let her go if that was what she wanted.

He knew he'd have some work ahead of him to free them both. Even if he failed, he could make sure she had the best possible chance: sneak her food, remove her locator chip, be the best guardian angel he could. And maybe, just maybe, they'd both survive this.

* * *

Her scratched tally marks let Chell know that it was a day for testing. She awoke with cramp, her calf muscles already tense in preparation. Gritting her teeth, massaging her leg, she waited for the ache to fade.

She reported for her nutritional shot, gulped down a cup of water, and took a walk. She didn't know what time she'd be sent for, but she hated hanging around. Walking helped her to fool herself into believing she wasn't doing just that. She halted by one of the port hole windows that lined the corridors. They served no purpose except to remind everyone where they were. Although Chell hated the fact that she was there, she was always a little fascinated to see the landscape outside and to view the Earth as a whole. So few people had seen it like this with their own eyes. It was cloudy over England, she noticed.

'There's a shock,' she thought. She'd had an English friend at her first job, Alice. All she'd done was complain about the weather in the UK, but get defensive when anyone else talked about it. When Chell had pointed that out to her, she'd agreed and laughed at herself.

She smiled at the memory. She missed Alice sometimes, even when she went months at a time without thinking about her.

The clatter of footsteps made her turn. A core zipped past on the rail at the end of the corridor, its yellow optic wide.

"So much space, gotta see it all!" it declared, before moving out of sight behind the wall.

There was a beat, then two lab technicians hurried after it.

"How do we make it stop?" one of them was panting.

"I don't know!"

Then they too disappeared, their steps fading away.

Chell blinked in bewilderment. Aperture often had to be seen to be believed. It was a car crash waiting to happen, on a multi-million dollar scale. She turned back to the window, watching the swirl of clouds on Earth, making a mental list of people who'd miss her if she never got back. It was putting her in a melancholy mood, but she didn't mind it. She knew she'd pull her concentration back for the tests.

After some time, she became aware of a presence at her side. She shifted her focus to her reflection and saw that it was Doug. He met her gaze, greeting her with a small smile. She returned it, an unfamiliar flood of warmth in her chest. She was pleased to see him.

'Don't get silly about this,' she warned herself.

"Are you ready?" he asked, as always.

She nodded, pivoting to follow him. At the door to the equipment room, he gestured her inside. The attendant was there, eyeing her warily, as if he expected her to start vandalising his precious gear.

"When you're done here you can take lunch," Doug told him.

"Do you need me back when you're finished?" he asked.

"No, it's okay. I'll do it. It's a good opportunity for debriefing."

"Okay."

Doug left for the observation office without giving her a passing glance. She knew it was for the benefit of the attendant, and she didn't take it personally. After putting on the gloves and long fall boots, the attendant fixed the portal device on her arm, not noticing the extra layer of the bandage she was still wearing.

"You're done," he told her unnecessarily. "Enter the airlock."

She did so, already feeling the cold, determined forced calmness that accompanied testing. The gravity deactivated, and she drifted into the chamber, raising the barrel of the device.

Four chambers on, she was starting to tire. She was no closer to giving up, but it made everything harder. She'd had a narrow scrape with a thermal discouragement beam and had lost a chunk out of her ponytail. It never hurt to have a reminder to be on her guard, but she could have done without the acrid smell of burnt hair.

In the next chamber, she found herself facing turrets once again, pushing quickly off walls to avoid being caught, angling portals so that their lasers hit each other. Adrenaline pumping, she kicked off the floor, floating up towards the cube she needed. She was losing momentum, but the cube was only a few feet away. She could afford to take her time.

And then, out of nowhere, that searching, red laser sight snaking across her torso. Her eyes widened in horror, and she knew the last sound she'd ever hear would be that falsely sweet little voice.

"There you are."


	6. The Point Of No Return

**A/N: **Slightly late posting. Sorry about that. I had real life things to do, like sleeping and housework. Exciting times!

This is the chapter that corresponds with Raintalker's painting :) The link is in my profile if you haven't seen it yet.

Amber M: Thank you for the kind words :) Glad you're enjoying the story.

* * *

**Chapter Six – The Point of No Return. **

It took Doug less than a second to register what was happening. Without thinking, he slammed his palm on the gravity activation button, bypassing the usual warning countdown. She dropped, fortunately landing on her feet. The turret shot an ugly burn in the wall, directly through the space she'd just been occupying. She looked shocked. He'd never seen her that shaken before. He reached for the microphone.

"Head for the exit, I'll meet you in the equipment room."

She didn't acknowledge his words, but she did as he said, eyeing the remaining turrets, which he shut down for her. As soon as she was out, he left the office, running down the stairs, her file still gripped tightly in one hand.

'There you go again,' a voice grumbled. 'How many rules are you going to ignore because of her? This isn't science!'

He would ignore as many as it took. He ignored the voice too.

She was leaning against the airlock door when he arrived, her breathing fast and heavy. She pushed herself upright at the sound of his footsteps.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded, looking at him with wide eyes, her face a confusing picture of shaken confidence, fear, gratitude, disbelief, and something else, almost a touch of fondness that she didn't seem consciously aware of. A strand of hope leapt in his chest. He knew she didn't hate him, and that kept him going, but this was more than he'd dared to dream. She was still volatile in the way she acted.

The dark grey wall panels and the buttery overhead bulbs didn't cast either of them in a flattering light, but seeing her there alive, after his mind had been swamped with images of what might have happened if he'd been too late, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He might have gotten carried away thinking along those sentimental lines, but for the instinctive stab of anxiety that someone would find out that he'd interfered with a test. He eyed the ceiling, searching for cameras. There weren't any. Security was much more relaxed in the station than it was in the main complex on Earth. Nobody could escape, and that was all Aperture was really worried about. Nothing would get stolen because there was nowhere to take it.

"I'm going to be in big trouble if they find out what just happened," he muttered.

Her eyes narrowed, an instantaneous gesture of contempt.

"I'm not sorry," he added hastily. "I'd do it again, you know I would. But...you know what it's like. There are rules. And I've broken them twice for you."

Her expression changed again, into something he couldn't fathom. She turned her head and swallowed hard. Doug reached out a hand, gently cupping her cheek. Her eyes met his, startled. She covered his hand with her own, seeming unsure whether she was trying to keep it there or tug it away.

He wanted to tell her he would get her out of there, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, just in case it turned out not to be true. It wouldn't be for lack of trying, but he didn't want to lie to her.

'Tell her something,' he ordered himself. 'Tell her anything.'

"Trust me," he said. "I really wish things could be different between us."

Her eyes became hard as flint, and she moved her hand, palm flat against his chest. She lunged forward, pushing him roughly until he connected with the wall. He was too taken aback to move. The hand on her cheek had slipped to the back of her neck.

"You want things to be different?" she said, her voice low. "_Make _them different. It's the only way."

He stared at her, unsure if he was more shocked at her actions or the unexpected speech.

"You whine constantly about the way things are, but you do nothing to change them. You have that power. Use it!" She gave his chest another unceremonious shove.

He was too surprised to explain that he'd already planned to. Then his mind caught up with him, and he realised what he'd accidentally revealed.

'I really wish things could be different _between us_.'

And she'd…ignored it? Not noticed? Or…she didn't mind.

"You're the only one who can make things different, Doug Rattmann," she whispered.

He looked into her face, so earnest, so fiery, and so close to his that he knew he was already lost.

"You're right," he said simply.

Sweeping his thumb across her jaw line, he kissed her. She froze in shock, and he pulled back, the apology already forming.

"Oh God. Forgive me, Chell."

There was a surge of emotion in her eyes at his use of her name. They held each other's gaze for a long, drawn out moment. Then something snapped in her, he could actually see it, some essential part of a decision slotting into place. She darted forward, pressing her lips to his, her hand in his hair. He dropped her file, slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He needed her. She was like sunlight, burning away the fog of his dark, anxious thoughts.

He couldn't fathom what he'd done to deserve it, or understand how she could react this way after everything, but he was in no state to analyse anything. Perhaps it was the shock of almost dying, perhaps his impromptu use of her name. Or perhaps she actually felt something for him. He couldn't quite believe that. But she was clinging to him just as much as he was clinging to her. As much as she was able, anyway. Her right arm, with the portal device still attached, still hung by her side.

He broke away, catching his breath. She was delightfully flushed, her eyes like fire. He gripped her shoulders, moving her back half a step. Wordlessly, he reached for her arm, removing the device. She gave a soft hiss of pain, her bandaged wrist evidently still giving her trouble.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay," she replied. "It's not your fault."

As he lifted the device away, preparing to put it back in its cabinet, she grabbed his sleeve. He glanced up at her, raising a questioning eyebrow. The fierceness of her gaze pinned him in place, and she swept a short strand of hair off his forehead, letting her hand come to rest against his cheek.

"None of it is your fault."

He moved away, locking up the portal device. When he turned back, she was peeling off her gloves, dropping them onto the floor.

"It may not be my fault," he spoke up, watching her remove her long fall boots, "but I'm not blameless either. When I think about how I was…you were risking your life and I…just didn't care. Worse, I didn't even really notice."

She approached him. Without the boots, she was a good three inches shorter, angling her face up towards his.

"You had your reasons."

"I was selfish."

She didn't disagree. "You've changed, you said so yourself. It won't do you any good to keep covering the same ground. What's done is done. Move forward."

He nodded, then literally did as she said, stepping towards her, cupping her face in his hands. She reacted instinctively, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but she didn't move.

"You were right, you know. I need to act. And I will. I've already started." At her frown, he explained, "I didn't want to say anything, to get your hopes up, but I'm looking for ways out of here. For both of us. It's not going to be easy, but I won't give up. I can be just as stubborn as you."

She smiled wryly. "It's nothing but necessity."

"So is this."

Once again, she covered his hand with her own, her palm warm against his skin. "And…this? Is this necessity too?"

He nodded, leaning in, resting his forehead against hers. "Yes. God, Chell, you have no idea. This…you…I never believed..."

"You didn't think I could ever feel anything towards you," she stated.

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. Even now, you could walk away and I wouldn't be surprised. In my head, if I ever considered this…you always…" he trailed off hopelessly. He still fully expected her to leave him at some point. It seemed so certain to happen, he couldn't ignore it.

But she never did what he expected. He should have learned that. She turned his whole world on its head with only two syllables.

"Kiss me."

He did. He could never refuse her anything. He'd never be strong enough to refuse that particular request anyway. Her lips were warm beneath his, softer, more perfect than he could have imagined. And he _had_ imagined. He was only human. Her hands clutched the lapels of his lab coat with more urgency than he anticipated, keeping him close. He moved one hand to the nape of her neck, running the other down her spine to the small of her back. She shivered, her lips parting in a silent gasp. He deepened the kiss, hoping he wasn't pushing her too far. But she matched him, of course she did. She always accepted a challenge.

On his part, at least, it wasn't just an outpouring of desire and connection. He tried to convey in actions what he couldn't yet do in words: tell her how important she was, how much he loved her, how she wasn't alone in her struggle to escape. When they finally broke apart, breathless and bright-eyed, she gazed at him in a way that seemed to show that she understood a little of what he was saying.

She cared about him. She really did. He knew that now, and he'd never forget it. In whatever capacity, she cared about him. It was more than he'd dared to hope. He felt as if his heart was too full for his chest. He'd been in love before, a long time ago, but it hadn't felt like this, not this exquisite blend of agony, passion, sweetness, hope and fear. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't possibly live without it.

"I probably shouldn't have let this happen," she whispered, her face a veritable slide show of emotions. "But I don't care, Doug."

He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "You have no idea how much you've changed my life. Even with everything, I'm so glad I met you."

"Even with everything…" She returned the smile. "I am too." A shadow passed over her face. "Whatever happens…thank you for trying. I know it puts you in a difficult position. I just…thank you."

"I can't stand by and pretend everything's okay. Not anymore."

"I know. I don't think you believe it yet, but you're a good man. You lost your way for a while, but you found it again."

"I appreciate you saying so, but you don't understand." He sighed. They were still close enough together that his breath stirred the loose strands of her hair. "Chell, I have so much to atone for."

"Even when you were cold and insensitive, you weren't a bad person," she reassured, her naturally quiet voice calm and persuasive. "I can't imagine you doing anything very terrible."

"That's just it. I didn't do anything. I let bad things happen, I turned a blind eye. And innocent people died."

"And you'll always regret it," she said. "But you can't let it rule your life. If you do, then Aperture has the last laugh. Be the best you can. You'll atone." She smoothed the creases she'd made in his lab coat, a faint blush crossing her cheeks. "You _are _a good man, Doug. If I didn't truly believe that, I would never have…um…kissed you."

"I know. Thank you."

"For the lecture or the kiss?" she replied lightly.

He brushed his lips against hers, softly, sweetly. "Both. For everything."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of approaching voices. They just had time to fly apart before the door slid open, revealing Craig, Neil and their three test subjects.

"Oh. Sorry, Doug, we thought you were finished," Neil said.

"I am, now."

Craig and Neil both frowned circumspectly, observing Chell's file, its pages still scattered across the floor. Without missing a beat, he crouched down to pick them up.

"Temper tantrums won't help you," he told her, and she hung her head. "All you're doing is holding these people up."

She shot him a glare so realistic he felt a wave of panic. The only thing that reassured him was her eyes. They were calm.

He got to his feet, clutching the file. "Come on. Out. We can debrief in my office."

Craig rolled his eyes, somehow managing to frown at the same time. Neil was openly scrutinising Chell in a way that made Doug's hand ache to punch him. He clenched his fist in his pocket.

"You're really gonna trust her in your office?" Craig asked.

"Why not? It's not like she'll go blabbing about what she sees in there."

"True. See you later."

They didn't exchange a single word on the way, by an unstated mutual agreement. She walked a pace behind him as usual, her face sullen. When they reached the room that was part office, part lab, and part workroom, he closed the door on the facility and felt some of the tension leave him.

"This is fortunate actually," he said, dropping her file onto the drawing board. "There's something I need to do."

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You have a locator chip in your arm. I can get it out, but it's going to hurt."

Her eyes widened and she tugged the stretchy fabric of her sleeve up, running her fingertips over a pale sliver of raised skin in the crook of her left elbow.

"Is that what this mark is? I wondered if it was something like that."

"Didn't you wonder how I could always find you before testing?"

"I just figured I was predictable," she said with a shrug.

He laughed. "That's something you'll never be."

"How big is this chip?"

"About the size of a stamp, or a little smaller. I don't have anything to give you to numb the area, though. Will you be okay?"

She nodded, the stubborn, determined glint already present in her eyes. "Just get it out of me. Please."

"You'd better sit down."

She hopped up onto the stool by the workbench, while he gathered the equipment he needed. He opened the medi kit ready, then went in search of the sharpest object he could find, which turned out to be a pocket knife that he sterilised with alcohol. He switched on the desk lamp, bathing her arm in bright light.

"This is becoming a habit," she commented, as he swept an antiseptic wipe across the area.

"Don't say I never take you anywhere," he muttered, and she gave a chuckle.

Resting his left hand over her arm, he firmly but gently held it in place. She tensed, her hand clenching apprehensively. He waited for her to relax.

"Tell me about yourself," he ordered, partially to distract her, but also because he wanted to know. The dam had been broken on her silence, and he wanted to make the most of it.

"There's not much to tell."

"Still. Come on. Tell me something."

She looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she obliged him, staring at the floor as she reminisced. "Well, I'm an orphan. No birth parents, no foster parents. None that I want to keep in touch with, anyway. I was born in Chicago. Or so I'm told. My mother ran away with me to Negaunee, but then decided to give me up. I'm not sure why. She's untraceable, so I can't ask."

She gave a sharp intake of breath as he made the first cut, gripping the side of the stool with her free hand.

"Keep going," he said.

"I, er, work at a store that – agh! – that sells office supplies. At least I did. I've probably lost that job. But that's okay. It was…" She bit her lip as he dug a little deeper. "It was really boring."

A tear slipped down her cheek, a result of her body's reaction.

"Almost there," he told her soothingly, swapping the knife for a pair of tweezers.

"I still don't know what I want to do with my life," she went on, stifling a gasp. "Which is kind of pathetic, I know. But I will tell you this now, whatever I do, it will have absolutely nothing to do with science."

She gave a cry as he pulled the chip out of her arm, breathing deeply as he dropped it into an empty Petri dish. He pressed a wad of gauze to the wound, halting the flow of blood.

"Keep that on there," he told her, and she did as he said. "Well done."

"Thanks. I took a class in gauze management."

"Not for that! You knew what I meant."

"I did. But I'm discovering that's it's fun to tease you."

The twinkle in her damp eyes made him smile. He'd never seen her lighter side before, but he thought he could easily get used to it. Every new side of her charmed him.

"What made you decide to volunteer for testing?" he asked, clearing away his supplies.

She hesitated before answering, her brow creased in thought. "Boredom, I guess. That's not a very good reason, is it? I thought it would be interesting."

"Did you know they were sending you to the moon?"

Chell shook her head, her expression growing cold. "No. They abducted me. They abducted all of us."

He met her gaze, hoping she wasn't serious, though he knew she was. Ironically, he wasn't really surprised.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay. At first, I thought you just didn't care. But when I got to know you a little better, I figured you weren't aware of what it's like in the test subjects' quarters."

"They just don't tell us things unless we absolutely need to know. I only found out this morning that you don't get real food."

He began cutting surgical tape into strips, and she watched him.

"You should have let me know," he added.

"What could you have done about it?" she asked, not unkindly. "I doubt you have access to croissants up here."

"Croissants?"

Shrugging, she said, "I miss them."

He laughed briefly. "Me too. If we make it out of here, I'll buy you one."

She smiled, not quite managing to hide the discomfort of her pain, but making a valiant effort. "I'll hold you to that."

"Good," he said simply.

He removed the gauze, holding the cut together with the tape. Then he cleaned away the blood and wrapped her arm in a bandage. She carefully tugged her sleeve down.

"One on each arm," she said with a sigh. "I don't seem to do things by halves."

"There's something you should know," he spoke up, lifting the chip with the tweezers and cleaning the blood off. "They're going to cut your nutritional shot down to once a day."

"Why? Some ploy to make test subjects weaker?"

"No, a mix up with the supply quantity."

She sighed heavily, wincing as she moved her arm. "Well, I guess I'll cope."

"If I can sneak you food, I will," he promised.

"Don't put your position in danger," she commanded, her voice firm. "Not for that."

Doug met her gaze, equally resolute. "I'm not going to sit by and watch you fade away while I watch."

"It would take more than that to make me fade."

"As true as that may be, I'm not backing down on this."

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. "You're really not, are you?"

"No."

He finished cleaning the chip and handed it to her. She caught it in her palm.

"Keep it with you," he explained. "It still works. But it means you can leave it under your pillow if you want to be stealthy. Provided you have one."

"Yes, I have a pillow. Thanks."

"Good. I'm glad. I'd have a real problem trying to sneak that to you," he said impishly.

Chell observed him for a moment, her expression serene but thoughtful. "You should smile more often," she told him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she was the one making him smile, but he didn't want to push things too far. He didn't know exactly what she felt for him, and he suspected that she wasn't certain herself.

"I know," he agreed. "Less severe, right?"

"Among other things."

He wanted to ask her what she meant, but she smiled coyly, and he couldn't do it. He busied himself with washing his hands in the room's tiny sink. An alarm beeped on his watch, and he silenced it.

"Sorry, I, uh, need to go and take my tablets."

"That's okay, I understand. I should get back anyway." Her words were calm, but her posture was tense. She didn't want to go back.

"Sorry," he said again.

"Don't be. You have to do what you have to do. Thank you for..." She held up the chip.

"Any time."

"Uh...no," she stated emphatically. "Once was enough!"

She got to her feet. They stood facing each other, sudden awkwardness descending. After everything, it seemed ridiculous, yet neither of them seemed able to shake it. Still adamant that he wouldn't push her, he headed for the door.

Her voice rang out, almost anxiously. "Doug?"

He halted, turned, then all at once she was in his arms, her hands tentatively clutching his shoulders, her mouth warm against his.

'She'll leave you,' a voice hissed in his mind. 'They all leave you.'

'She doesn't love you.'

'She never could, not after everything you've done.'

He pushed them aside, his focus only on her. It didn't matter that she didn't love him, she was there, chasing the whispers away. She actually had that power. She was incredible.

"Okay," she said, drawing back. "_Now _ I can go."

He cupped her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow," he promised.

She nodded, stepping back, her stoic mask slipping back over her features. He wiped his own expression clear, unlocked the door, and led them out to face the evening.


	7. The Increasing Pressure

**A/N: **Back on track with updating now.

To my guest reviewer: Hehe thank you :) Glad you enjoyed it.

* * *

**Chapter Seven – The Increasing Pressure. **

Chell lay in her tiny capsule bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was evading her, her mind too full of everything that had happened that day. She didn't regret what had occurred between Doug and her, but she still didn't really know why she'd done it. Well, that wasn't strictly true. She was lonely, and she felt...something. She wasn't sure exactly what, but whatever it was, kissing him hadn't felt inappropriate. If she was being brutally honest, it had felt...right.

It wasn't something she'd been expecting to find in this place. Part of her was almost afraid that he, of all people, would turn out to be the one, the one she couldn't do without. Because even now, she could feel that whatever affection she had for him was more intense than anything she'd ever felt towards men she'd fallen head over heels for. Perhaps it was due to the unusual nature of her forced lifestyle, she'd been primed by circumstance to latch on to the first bit of kindness she received. But her head was still clear. She hadn't given in, hadn't lost perspective on her whole situation. She hadn't lost herself like the others had. And that left her with only one conclusion: whatever it was, it was real.

She felt hopeful that Doug would find a way out. Against her better judgement, she couldn't stop. The optimistic side of her was warring with the side that was still convinced she would die. She wanted to indulge in daydreams of getting back to Earth, spending time with Doug away from Aperture Science, finding out just how far they could take what was between them. But they made her despondent because they seemed so unlikely to come true. Chell didn't normally let herself get depressed, but this wounded her deeply. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

She turned on her side, the narrow room just affording her the space to curl her legs up protectively. She was cold, but she was used to that. It never stopped up here. As dramatic as it sounded, she'd all but forgotten what it felt like to be warm.

A quiet voice broke the stillness of the night, and she frowned. Her fellow test subjects barely spoke anymore, apparently preferring to drift through their days with the least amount of contribution possible. Although she couldn't hear the words, the voice, a man's voice, sounded confident and authoritative, which led her to conclude that it was a staff member.

Sitting up, she crawled to the door, pressing her ear against it.

"No," the man was saying. "I don't think you will, will you? You're too far gone to tell anybody. Well that's just fine by me."

There came the sound of his footsteps walking away, and Chell opened her door a crack. She recognised him as one of the scientists who'd come in and nearly caught her with Doug. He didn't notice her, not bothering to look back as he exited the room. In the following silence, she heard rapid, shaky breathing coming from below, and she scrambled out of her room, feeling her way down the ladder in the dim light. The facility was never completely dark, even during sleeping hours. Low-energy bulbs lined the walls throughout, to light the way for night wanderers.

When she reached the floor, she immediately spotted an open pod, on the bottom level. She hurried over to it, and promptly stopped in her tracks. Its occupant was slumped inside it, quietly weeping, staring at nothing. Her lip was bleeding and a fresh bruise was beginning to form under one eye. Biting down her anger, Chell crouched, reaching out to squeeze the girl's shoulder. She flinched instinctively away.

"Anna, my God. I'm so sorry. What happened?"

Anna didn't react, barely seeming to hear her. Her spirit had long since been broken.

"Let me see," Chell instructed, examining her face. "Can you hear me? Anna? Don't let them win! For God's sake!"

The other woman remained unresponsive. Chell had tried similar speeches before, with no success. She knew she wasn't being as sensitive as she probably should be, but she was fuming. It wasn't Anna's fault, not at all, but she couldn't help being angry at her for giving up. As for the scientist, she just wanted to eject him out of the nearest airlock.

"Are you okay?" she asked, knowing it was useless. "I'll kill him, I swear it. If I ever get anywhere near him, I'll-"

"Go away, Chell," Anna mumbled, her voice barely audible and laced with fatigue.

"What? Anna, I'm trying to help you."

"Just...stop. I just want it all to be over. Leave me alone."

Stung, she shifted backwards, out of the room. Anna moved enough to nudge the door closed behind her. Chell paced the corridor for a while, her thoughts turning over and over like a leaf caught in a current. She was anxious, still furious, and cold with dread. Were none of them safe? After she'd walked off some of her restlessness, she returned to her room, but only managed to fall in and out of dozes. Real sleep was still nowhere to be found.

She was jolted awake by the alarm, and opened her door, joining the others on the ladders down to the ground. There were less of them than there'd been the day before. Significantly. Glancing around, she estimated that at least fifteen people were missing. There were only about seventeen of them left. Anna was one of the absent ones, she noticed.

The constant unease began to grow, and she knew she had to talk to Doug. After her nutritional shot, she headed through the surprisingly quiet facility, hoping that he would come and find her soon. Her locator chip was safely hidden, tucked into her bandage.

It took him the best part of an hour, but she was happy to wait. When she glanced up at the sound of his footsteps, she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. He approached, the file of notes ever present, tucked under his arm. She met his eyes, trying to convey that she needed to speak to him, and that it was important.

"Follow me," he said.

They made their way to the workroom once again. Chell felt more than happy to have a locked door between her and the rest of the facility.

"Things are getting really crazy, Doug," she said, bypassing greetings in her concern. "Last night there was a scientist in the test subjects' quarters, one of the guys that came in to use the chambers after us yesterday. Sandy hair, glasses, quite short, getting a bit of a beer belly."

"Neil. What was he doing there?"

"He, er..." She gave an aggravated sigh, pushing her emotions aside. "He abused a woman. Anna. I don't know how far it went, but… Then this morning she was gone, along with about fourteen other people."

"Jesus," he muttered, his expression grim.

"She didn't...she didn't really react. She was upset, but...she'd already been broken. She told me she just wanted it all to be over. Doug, _what _is going on here?"

"The first wave of tests is almost over. Peter's sending scientists home when their projects finish. That's why the facility is so quiet this morning. Some people can afford to get up when they want, because they're off duty until the shuttle arrives."

"But what about the test subjects?" she asked, dreading that she already knew the answer.

The look he gave her confirmed her worst fears. They'd been executed. Disposable tools to further the cause of science. A surge of anger swept through her, and her eyes felt gritty and far too hot.

"Did you know about this?"

"No," he said, a shadow crossing his face. "Not directly. It had been implied that it would happen, but I didn't know anything more than that."

"You knew it _might _happen? And you didn't do anything? I thought you'd changed! What is-"

"What was I supposed to do?" he fired back. "I couldn't have saved them, Chell. I don't even know if I can save you! If I'd protested and made a nuisance of myself, they would have just sent me back to Earth, or maybe even had me killed as well. I can't just...charge in like a bull in a china shop."

Chell felt heated tears slip down her cheeks, and she dashed them away with a brisk, irritated swipe. "I can't accept this! They didn't deserve it. And Anna... How could he even...there is no excuse."

"I know. I never thought he'd do something like this. I don't like him, I never have, but I didn't think he was capable..." He studied her thoughtfully, his brow creased in concern. "You're shaking."

"I'm angry."

He stepped forward, loosely gripping her arms, his hands soothingly tracing paths. She didn't want to be comforted. Her anger gave her strength. But she couldn't bring herself to push him away.

"How long before it's another one of us?" she asked, sharing her fears. "How long before it's me?"

"I won't let that happen," he promised.

"How can you stop it?"

He glanced thoughtfully at the floor before meeting her gaze, his face troubled but earnest. "I'll hide you. You can stay in my room. I'll sleep on the floor."

She knew him well enough to know that it wasn't a ploy. He genuinely wanted to help. Although she felt that she should refuse, the thought of sleeping in a real bed was almost too much. Being away from the test subjects' quarters was appealing too. She'd never exactly felt safe there, but she'd never felt unsafe either. She did now.

Although her doubts refused to leave her, she nodded. "Okay. I'd appreciate that. I just wish...there was something I could do about the others."

"You can't save everyone. You have to pick your battles."

There was a brief pause. Then she said tentatively, "Our time's running out, isn't it?"

He nodded, gently brushing a stray tear off her cheek. "Seems that way."

"Am I testing today?"

"No."

"Good. I'm not...I don't feel that I could focus on it. I don't want to get myself killed."

That thought bothered him, she could see it clearly in his face.

"I need to go back to plant my locator chip in my pod," she said, changing the subject.

"I should go to breakfast. I've got no stomach for it, but I don't want to break my routine now."

"No," Chell agreed.

"I'll see if I can bring you something," he said with a small smile. "Meet me where you were earlier. I'll be about a half hour."

"I don't have a watch, but I think I can estimate that."

They parted ways. Chell spent some time in her room, indulging in some therapeutic crying. She wasn't a crier by nature, but every now and then she needed to let go. Feeling a little less tense, she left the chip under her pillow and ventured back out to meet Doug.

When he appeared, he took in her reddened eyes with a frown, but said nothing. Beyond the door she wasn't authorised to go through, he led her along a route she'd never seen before, through a narrow corridor lined with numbered doors. But for the clean surfaces and lack of cosmetic damage, it would have very much resembled a cheap motel. They had timed it well. Those scientists that still had work to do had already left, and those that didn't were still asleep. They didn't meet a soul on the way. Doug swiped his card through the reader of door 38 and ushered her inside.

Chell wasn't surprised to see a room nothing at all like the one she'd imagined in her bitter moments. It was basic, just containing a bed, a desk and a closet, with a single bedside table and a lamp. There was a door through to a tiny bathroom. The walls were the same grey as the corridors outside, and the floor was covered with thin, cheap carpet tiles in a nondescript charcoal colour. Doug had tried to make it his own with the pile of books by the bed, and the untidy desk. A calendar on the wall showed a panoramic view of the Grand Canyon on a sunny day. The colours almost leapt off the wall.

"Thank you for this," she said when he'd closed the door behind them. "I can cope with anything, but...to have the control taken from me...I just..."

"I understand. And it's no problem." He handed her a mug, like everything else, stamped with the Aperture logo. "Here. I hope you don't mind it black, I had to make it like mine."

She accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around its warmth, inhaling the scent of coffee. "That's amazing!" she said. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed the basic things in life. "I take it black too. Does it have sugar in it?"

"No. I don't take any."

"Ah well. I'll deal. Thank you!"

"My co-workers just think I'm extra caffeinated today."

She shot him a smile and took a sip, relishing the taste. She'd had nothing but water for over three months. The coffee was close to heaven.

"Make yourself comfortable," he went on. "I have work I need to do, so I'll be out for a few hours. Will you be okay?"

"Absolutely," she said." You have books. I'll be just fine."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Chell nodded, smiling. He returned the smile, gathered his notes, then left. She stood where she was for a moment, sipping her coffee, looking around the room. She placed the mug on the bedside table, and wandered over to look at the calendar, the spectacular photograph of a place she'd never been. The brightness of the sunlight hitting the rocks had turned them luminous red, striking against the cerulean sky. She could see why Doug liked having the calendar there. It was a reminder of home, and how incredible it could be.

She turned and surveyed the room once more. Then, with a broad, childish grin, she ran and leapt onto the bed, bouncing in the centre. It wasn't the softest, but compared to what she'd been used to, it was bliss. She moved onto her back, enjoying the fact that the ceiling was more than three feet above her. Not bothering with getting underneath, she pulled the side of the quilt over herself, rolling up in it. Before she really had time to appreciate the warmth and comfort of it, she was asleep.

* * *

Doug was lost in his own thoughts as he made his way to his workroom, and so Alan's sudden appearance from a doorway made him jump out of his skin.

"Jesus, Alan, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Succeeding, judging by that!" Alan quipped, far too quick-witted for that time in the morning. His hair was a work of art as usual.

Doug didn't dignify it with an answer.

"I'm glad I ran into you," Alan went on. "I've had a freaking weird morning."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You're a good listener."

Doug reached his workroom and swiped his card. Alan followed him without being invited.

"Come in," Doug muttered sardonically.

"I was heading back from breakfast," Alan began, sitting himself down on the stool.

Doug pursed his lips in annoyance but said nothing, placing his folder of notes down on the drawing board.

"And I walked past Peter's office. He was receiving a transmission from Earth, from that guy Henry, you know the one that he always pretends not be rivals with but we all know better?"

"I know Henry," he put in, leaning against the board and folding his arms. He knew he wouldn't be getting anything useful done anytime soon. "I nearly got assigned to work under him, on the Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System."

"Yeah, that's his baby. That's what he was talking about, actually. He says when it gets activated tomorrow it's going to be groundbreaking, and it will...what did he say? Wipe the floor with all of Aperture's other projects."

"I bet Peter didn't like that."

"No!" Alan exclaimed with a short laugh. "He was almost red in the face. You should have seen him!"

Doug couldn't help but twitch a smile at the thought. "So Henry literally just called to boast?"

"Looks like it. Then when he'd signed off, Peter called me in. He didn't want me especially, it was just because I happened to be in the corridor. I thought I was gonna get fired for listening to his conversation!"

"What happened?"

"He just wanted to sound off at someone. I was convenient. He said something about getting his own back. He was trying to be all tough, but he's obviously jealous. So expect stupidly extravagant project ideas from Peter from now on!"

"Fantastic," Doug growled.

Alan sniggered. "Did you know he's built his own series of test chambers up here? They're supposed to…how did he put it? Challenge a test subject's mental strength capacity, and prove that human intuition will always be superior to anything an A.I. can offer."

"So basically something that will undermine Henry's project?"

"Exactly."

"He's so transparent."

"I know, right?"

Doug idly picked up a page of notes, skimming it. Alan did not get the hint, starting to pick bits of loose wood out of the surface of the workbench.

"Don't you have work to be doing?" Doug asked, trying to keep his tone level.

"Actually, no. My project's finished. I'm going home soon. So's my test subject, she made it."

Doug let out a deep breath, pressing his lips together in disapproval. Judging by what Chell had said, Alan's test subject was probably already gone.

"What?" the younger man said. "What's that look for?"

He wasn't in a particularly sensitive mood. "Your test subject's dead, Alan."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"None of them are going back to Earth. They know too much. Aperture would never risk anything getting to Black Mesa or the papers. Especially after the conditions they've been living in."

Alan stared at him owlishly. "I…I can't believe that. Peter wouldn't…oh my God, you are serious, aren't you? How do you know?"

"Apparently at least fifteen people are missing from the test subjects' quarters this morning."

"Yes, but how do you know that?"

Doug hesitated, unsure how much to say. Alan's look of horror was genuine, as was the edge of disgust in his voice.

"My…test subject told me."

"Be serious, Doug. 1498 doesn't talk."

"She talks to me."

"Really?" his expression was sceptical. "I mean…not to be disrespectful here, but…is she really talking? Or is it just…you know…in your head?"

Doug bit down his irritation. It was a fair question. "She's really talking."

"Really?"

"Yes. Her mouth moves, that's usually a clue."

"Wow." There was a pause while Alan processed the new information. Then he added, "What did you do to make her talk?"

Doug considered, then said truthfully, "Annoyed her. She yelled at me."

"What did _you _do?"

"Let her. She has every right. I just…realised it way too late."

"Yeah…" Alan trailed off thoughtfully. "I guess she does. All of them…are you absolutely sure that Peter's authorised the murder of all those test subjects?"

"He prefers the term 'take care of'," Doug replied grimly, "but yes. They're gone, and their observations about this place with them."

"That's…actually kinda horrible. When you think about it. I didn't know they were gonna do that."

"None of us did. I hope."

They drifted into an uncomfortable silence. Then Alan spoke up once more. "What will you do now?"

Doug, again, told him the truth. "Try to save the life of my test subject. If I can. And get home. I've had it with this place."

"You think you can? Save 1498, I mean?"

"If there's one thing she's taught me, it's not to give up. I'll whistle-blow to the papers if I have to."

Alan's eyes grew round. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. This isn't right. Aperture shouldn't be allowed to get away with treating people like commodities with no care for their safety. We all got carried away."

"I get what you're saying, but Doug, if they suspect you're planning to talk to the papers…"

"I know. But you're the only one I've told. If anything does happen to me, you have to speak up."

"I don't know, man. I don't think I'm that brave. I mean, I'm not going to tell anyone what you're planning, but to get involved? I don't know if I could."

"Well, that's up to you. I know you have a lot of respect for Peter, but let me tell you, all that man cares about is recognition for his work. And being better than Henry."

Alan seemed incapable of processing everything that was going through his head, judging by his fish-like facial expressions. It would take some time, a couple of hours of careful thought, but Doug felt sure that the younger man would eventually agree with him.

"You need some time," he said, and Alan nodded obediently. "Just keep what I've told you to yourself."

"Sure. I wouldn't sell you out, Doug."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm happy to talk more about this, but I do actually have work to do. Would you mind?"

Alan got to his feet, heading for the door with an apologetic bob of his head. "Yeah, sorry. I'll see you later."

"See you later."

He paused in the doorway, turning to look back. "And, um…good luck. With…you know."

Saving her. Doug nodded his thanks, and Alan departed. Finally left alone with his thoughts, Doug sat down with good intentions of doing what he was supposed to be doing: writing up reports about Chell's testing, planning what test chambers to put her through next, but his mind wouldn't allow him to settle. Part of it was avoidance, he knew. He didn't want to put her through any more test chambers, and he had no valid reason for keeping her in the easier ones.

Another part of it was that he just couldn't stop thinking about her. His mind kept him on a constant rollercoaster ride of giddy highs remembering her smile, her voice, and her kiss, sharp drops of panic when he thought of her imminent death, cold lows of despair knowing he had no idea how to keep her alive. They spun round and round in a persistent loop, keeping him from concentrating.

'_You've already learned that which can save you.'_

The sweet, chirping little voice of the defective turret floated through his thoughts. If only it had been a little more specific. Part of him was cringing that he was even giving credence to its words. It was a glitch, nothing more. But he was desperate. He pondered what it could have been referring to. If he was planning to talk to the papers like he'd mentioned, then everything he'd learned could save him, couldn't it? He didn't see how it could save Chell. Unless he literally bargained with his superiors and promised not to talk in exchange for her life. But being so isolated, he was reliant on a single way out, and Peter had control over that way out. Doug didn't like being backed into a corner. It made him defensive, and he was never at his best when defensive.

All he could think of was the melancholy phrase that Chell had spoken earlier, the one that she'd fought so hard to keep her voice neutral for: "Our time's running out, isn't it?"

It wouldn't be long before he knew how true it was.


	8. The Beginning Of The End

**A/N: **Penultimate chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Eight – The Beginning of the End. **

Chell was sitting under the bed covers, idly flicking through one of Doug's scientific journals when the man himself returned. He looked tired, and she knew he had many things weighing heavily on his mind. He was no closer to finding a solution to their problem. She could see that clearly in one simple glance. She bit back a sigh. It wouldn't help matters, and she didn't want to add to his anxiety.

He looked momentarily startled to see her, and she wondered if he'd forgotten she was there. But no, she realised, it was probably because she was in his bed. His mind had most likely taken him down a route he wasn't ready for.

"I hope you don't mind," she began, trying not to blush. "I was cold."

"Of course not. It's always cold in here."

She'd had a shower in an attempt to warm up, but had been disappointed to learn that even in the employees' quarters, the temperature struggled to reach lukewarm. She ran a hand through her still-drying hair, teasing out a tangle.

Doug approached her, holding out a bead roll wrapped in a napkin. She took it with a tiny smile of gratitude.

"It's all I could sneak out," he explained. "I don't want to raise suspicions, and I figured your body should take it slow anyway."

"You're probably right. I don't know what the nutritional shots have done to my metabolism. Thanks."

He returned her smile, then headed over to the desk, organising his paperwork. Chell pulled bite size pieces off the roll, chewing slowly. It was a little dry, but she didn't mind it. It was food.

"I, uh, don't know how much longer I can keep you out of the test chambers," Doug said, still rifling through his notes. "You've never gone longer than two days without testing."

"That's okay," she said. "I'll cope. I know you've got my back."

He didn't smile as she'd been hoping he would. He was really afraid for her life. She had nothing to reassure him with either. Before she'd talked, before he'd kissed her and everything had changed, she'd been prepared to die if things had gone that way. She didn't want to, but she'd have faced it bravely with a tiny, traitorous feeling of relief. Now… She'd found something she didn't want to lose. Something that could become more important than anything else in her life. How could she resign herself to death now? It was a concern, but a small one. She'd face it screaming her outrage, as she'd always planned to. It was just that now, she was afraid of crying too.

If she died, he'd get home. That was reassuring. She hadn't ever believed herself capable of being generous that way, but the thought genuinely comforted her. She drew strength from it. But she knew he wouldn't.

Chell left half the roll for the morning, wrapping it back up in the napkin. She didn't want to overdo it. She didn't know how her neglected stomach would react. Pushing the covers aside, wincing as the cool air hit her bare feet, she crossed the room towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Doug. What will happen will happen. It's pointless trying to fight against things you have no control over."

He sighed heavily, bowing his head, his weight resting on his hands. "I _should _have some degree of control. If Aperture worked like any other company, I would have." He lifted his chin, turning to meet her gaze. "And we should fight it. You can't give up. You never give up. Why consider it now?"

She bit her lip, unable to tell him why. She knew if they kept fighting and she died anyway, it would haunt him. If she accepted it, it might be a little easier to bear.

"You have to pick your battles," she said at length, choosing the phrase he himself had used earlier in the day.

He did not look convinced. She needed to change the subject.

"I, um, may have got crumbs in your bed. Sorry about that."

His lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. She considered it a victory, albeit a small one.

"It's yours now. You can lie on them."

Chell smiled, squeezing his shoulder before dropping her hand.

"Thank you for this," she said. "I really do appreciate it."

"I know."

She wandered away to brush the breadcrumbs off the sheet, and Doug sorted his papers into three neat piles. They spent the remainder of the evening talking, Chell curled up on the bed, Doug perched on his desk chair. There was a mild air of awkwardness, but nothing too excruciating. It stemmed mostly from the unfamiliarity of the situation.

When it got later, Chell found herself repressing yawns despite her earlier snooze. Doug had also grown quiet, his weariness seemingly taking over. They declared it bedtime and took turns using the bathroom.

Doug didn't bother to get changed, choosing instead to simply remove his shoes and belt before settling on the floor with a single pillow, using his lab coat as a quilt. Chell eyed him sceptically, foreseeing that he would awaken with backache at the very least. He was quick to reassure her that he was completely fine, but she didn't buy it for one second. Still, in this he was proving to be as stubborn as she was. He refused to swap places.

Sensing that she should give up for once, Chell burrowed under the covers and curled up, seeking sleep once again. Within a few moments it came.

* * *

It seemed as if she had barely closed her eyes, when a muffled cry woke her. The room was still in darkness, broken only by the sliver of light that crept around the doorframe. She leaned over and clicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with its soft, yellow glow. Doug was sitting up, his elbows resting on his bent knees, his hands supporting his head. His breathing was shallow and quick. In a trice, she was out of bed, kneeling by his side.

"Nightmare?" she guessed.

He nodded. His forehead was lined with perspiration. She put a comforting arm around his shoulders. He was cold to the touch, even through his shirt.

"Doug, you're freezing."

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

The chill in the air was already seeping through her jumpsuit, and she held back a shiver.

"You're not."

Determined, she threw his pillow back onto the bed and stood up, hauling him with her. He turned to her, startled, but she paid no attention, manhandling him onto the mattress.

"Chell, what are you–"

"You'll freeze if you stay down there. There's enough room for both of us."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

She got in her side, which was mercifully still warm, and tugged the covers over them both.

"Right. Because sleeping on the floor and giving yourself pneumonia is really smart."

He frowned at her. "I just don't think I should."

She frowned back. "We're both adults. This makes sense."

She knew what he was afraid of. The way he felt about her, her close proximity, he worried about his body's reaction. Part of her was curious about how far they would let things go. The sensible side of her knew that neither of them were ready for that, but they weren't exactly in a normal situation. And if she was going to die… But it wasn't healthy to think that way.

Before he could get out, she wrapped an arm around him, snuggling up against his back. His hand automatically gripped hers, his fingers cold but getting warmer.

"Get the light," she ordered gently.

He sighed, but did as she asked, settling into the pillow. Chell smiled into the darkness, bending her knees to fit in behind his. Slowly, his breathing grew deeper and slower, and she knew he'd fallen asleep. She placed a light kiss on the back of his shoulder, then followed him.

* * *

Doug awoke to unusual warmth. Keeping his eyes closed for a moment, he enjoyed the blissful feeling that he'd all but forgotten. Then he remembered what had transpired, and he opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, Chell curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck. Her hand lay lightly on his chest and one leg was hooked over his. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content. He traced gentle circles on her back and she stirred without waking.

He'd awoken before his alarm as usual, but he knew it wouldn't be long before it shattered the peace. He tightened his hold on Chell, once again feeling slightly bewildered that she treated him the way she did after everything. He was more grateful than he'd ever been in his life.

The alarm began to beep demandingly, and Chell gave an irritated groan. It made him smile. There was something refreshingly mundane about being annoyed at an alarm clock. He leaned over to switch it off, and her eyes opened sleepily.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Seven thirty."

"I don't want to move. I'm actually warm!"

He smiled, giving her a peck on the forehead. "Me neither. But I have to, and so do you."

'If you let her out of your sight, you'll never see her again,' hissed a voice. It was so out of the blue it made him jump, and Chell glanced up, concern in her grey eyes.

His condition was as well-controlled as it could be, but stress always seemed to make it worse, meds or no meds.

'Keep her close.'

'Don't keep her too close. They're watching your every move.'

Chell reached up a hand, cupping his cheek, angling his face towards her. "It's not real," she said, demonstrating an uncanny ability to read him.

"I know. I always know that. It doesn't make any difference."

'Time's running out, Douglas.'

'Tick-tock.'

Closing his eyes briefly, he gathered his self control, blocking them out. He felt the mattress shift as Chell propped herself up on her elbows, inching forward to place a calming, chaste kiss on his lips. Tightening his arms around her slender waist, he opened his eyes as she drew back. Her hair was loose, hanging in tangled waves around her face. It gave her a softer look than he was used to. He quite liked it.

"You're stronger than you realise," she told him. "One day, you'll accept it."

She slipped out of his arms and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Later, when they were both up and dressed, they made arrangements for that evening, then made the nerve-wracking journey back through the corridors to the main thoroughfare of the facility. Luck was on their side: they met no one. Chell walked off towards the test subjects' quarters, her posture rigid, her usual stern scowl on her face. He watched her go, swamped with a sudden wave of helplessness. When she'd been safely hidden in his room, he'd felt that he was able to protect her. Seeing her return to that place, he felt the control slip through his fingers.

Putting it aside, he headed for breakfast. The anxiety of learning to care again had ruined his appetite, he thought wryly. He'd always been of slim build, but just lately he was drifting towards skinny.

Peter's assistant Mark was loitering just outside the door into the canteen, the clipboard ever present in his arms. Doug wondered if he'd have to be surgically removed from it.

"Ah, Mr. Rattmann," he greeted.

"Morning, Mark. You can go in, you know."

Mark laughed politely, with very little humour in his face. "No, er…actually, it's…"

"He wants to see me, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Yes, he does. Um…follow me, please."

Rolling his eyes, Doug turned on his heel, trailing after the nervous young man to Peter's office. A flicker of panic shot through him, and he wondered whether Alan had told Peter what he planned to do, or whether someone had seen him with Chell. He pushed it aside, keeping his face placid. He'd done nothing wrong. Well, not much.

"Mr. Rattmann for you, sir," Mark announced, opening the door, standing aside so that Doug could enter the office.

"Thank you, Mark. Morning, Rattmann."

"Morning, sir."

"Sit."

The door closed behind Mark's departing figure, and Doug did as he was told, claiming a chair opposite Peter's ridiculously large desk. Peter was sitting behind it importantly, his hands clasped in front of him. Doug took a moment to appreciate how he'd hate it if he knew how much he looked like a newsreader.

"Sorry to keep you from your breakfast, but I have something important to discuss," Peter began.

Doug nodded, sensing that a reply wasn't necessary.

"I need you to go and fetch me all of 1498's notes. And then you can pack, you're going home."

"What?"

The sharp retort was out of his mouth before he could control it. He scrabbled to make amends.

"Sorry, sir, you took me by surprise. My project isn't over."

"I know, I know, but I need 1498 for another project."

Doug fought to remain calm. He could think his way out of it. All he needed was a little time.

"It doesn't feel right to abandon a project halfway, sir. I've been observing 1498 for months, I'd like to see the whole of her progress."

"I admire that, kid, I really do. You're just the sort of dedicated scientist we need in this company. But I know you want to return to Earth. You've never complained, and I appreciate that, but I know you're fed up with this place. It's okay. You can hand 1498 over to me and head back down." Peter smiled in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring. It just looked smug, like most of his expressions.

"What will you do with her?" he asked, managing to keep the desperate need to know out of his voice.

"Just get her to run a few more tests. She's the only test subject left, you know."

"The _only one_?" he repeated incredulously.

Peter nodded, leaning back in his chair. "The other projects are over. Everyone's going home as soon as the shuttle arrives later. Except me, of course. I'm staying to finish up, then I'll follow in a few weeks. That self-righteous bastard Henry thinks he's got me beat. Did you hear about his precious A.I.?"

Doug nodded numbly.

"He thinks it's the way forward. I say it's not. We still need the human element, and 1498 is going to help me prove that. She's the only one tenacious enough."

Despite everything, he had to agree with that.

"So," Peter went on, not noticing Doug's silent horror, "if you could get me the notes that would be great. Shuttle'll be here at 1600. Make sure you don't forget anything!"

"Right," he mumbled. "I'll get her file."

Doug staggered to his feet and left the room, heading back to his quarters in a daze. He couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in on him, panic hovering just beyond reach, drawing ever nearer. He paced back and forth in his room, knowing that he couldn't linger too long or Peter would suspect something. His head was maddeningly free of ideas. All he could do, the _only _thing he could do, was try and sneak her aboard the shuttle somehow. But he had no idea how, and had only a scant few hours to try and think of something. One thing he did know was that he had to talk to Chell.

He took the file to Peter, bypassing Mark with a nod. Peter accepted it gratefully, leafing through it without appearing to read anything.

"Sir, I thought I'd go and visit 1498, tell her what's going on. She trusts me a little, I can make sure she doesn't act too volatile for you."

Peter looked up and grinned. "Great idea! You know, it's so rare to find someone who actually does their job thoroughly. I take my hat off to you, Rattmann. You've got a bright future ahead of you."

"Thank you, sir," he said, because it was expected. He made a hasty exit, hurrying through the corridors to the test subjects' quarters, his anxiety a constant shadow at his feet.

* * *

Chell was doing something she normally never did: hiding. She had returned to find the quarters empty and silent. A frenzied investigation of the capsule bedrooms revealed what she'd feared. She was the only one left. Doug's protection and her own rebelliousness had saved her, but for what? A slight delay of the inevitable?

She had clambered inside a random pod, not her own, and hadn't moved for…however long it had been. An hour at least, she'd guessed. Chell wasn't a coward by any means, but she had a strong sense of self preservation. If there was something to fight, she'd fight it, but simply sitting and waiting was not for her. She would keep them on their toes first.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, and she willed her body into total stillness. The steps entered the room, then abruptly halted. They paced for a short while before once again stopping.

Then there came a voice, so familiar and welcome, calling her name.

She opened the door, immediately spotting Doug below. He looked relieved to see her, the crease of worry back to its usual place between his eyebrows. Something had happened. She pulled herself out of the capsule room and descended the ladder.

"What is it?" she asked.

He scarcely seemed able to begin, rubbing the back of his neck, struggling for words.

"They…uh…they want to send me back to Earth. They're all going later. The first wave is over, except for one last project. He…he wants you to stay and run some more chambers. Peter. My superior. If I agreed to hand you over to him, I could leave."

Chell took all of it in with an expression of slight shock. Panic began to uncoil itself in the pit of her stomach. She held it back.

"Did you agree?" she asked.

"Not in so many words. But it wasn't a case of asking my permission."

"Oh." She should have expected that. Peter had forgotten that life didn't revolve around him.

"I don't know what to do, Chell. I don't see how I can get you on board the shuttle without him noticing."

His anguish was written plainly across his face. Rather than affecting her in the way she'd anticipated, she felt a hazy level of calm settle over her. She knew what she had to do, if she could only be brave enough to say it.

"It's simple," she replied, gathering strength from the lack of emotion in her voice. "Go."

"What?"

"Go. Go back to Earth, leave Aperture and live your life. I'll be fine. I can handle their test chambers."

"Chell, you can't–"

"I can," she interrupted. She didn't want to hear his counter arguments, just in case she found herself persuaded. "Doug, you have to do what they say."

He darted forward, clutching her shoulders. "His test chambers are unsolvable! The plans got banned from use at the main facility. And when Aperture bans something, you know it's bad."

She forced her lips into a vague imitation of a smile. "Unsolvable. I like the sound of those odds. Nothing is unsolvable."

"I can't let you do this," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "I can't let you die."

"I don't plan on dying any time soon," she told him, and she hoped it was true. "Answer me this: have I ever met a test chamber I couldn't beat? Despite impossible odds?"

Reluctantly, he answered, "No."

"Why should this one be any different? I will beat it." _Or die trying, most likely_.

"And then what? They won't just let you go."

"I'll strike a bargain with them. Offer them my services as a…test designer. Or something. I'll be joining you in no time."

He didn't look convinced, but she could tell her calmness was having an effect. She prayed there was still a strand of selfishness inside him, and that he would listen to it.

"How can you be sure?" he asked.

"Because…I'm me."

As claims went, it wasn't the best she could have come up with, but he seemed to admire her spirit so much, it might be the only line of reasoning he'd listen to.

There was a pause, heavy and ominous. Then he looked up, cupping her cheek.

"I'm not happy about this," he said. "Not at all. It…doesn't feel right."

"You have to go," she reiterated. "I'll feel better knowing you're back where you should be. I can take care of myself, Doug, I promise you."

Whatever words he was searching for, he couldn't find them. Instead he leaned in, kissing her deeply, a hint of desperation hidden within it.

When they drew apart, Chell said softly but firmly, "You need to go. Turn around and keep walking." She placed a hand on his chest, almost a gesture of farewell.

The look of distress was still present on his face, but he nodded unwillingly, stepping backwards. Out of reach, her hand fell back to her side. He paused, still a short distance from the door, and turned to look back at her.

"I love you," he said, and she almost lost her grip on her control. "You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, opening her mouth to say it back. Until that very second, she hadn't even been aware that she wanted to, that that was what she felt for him. Now she knew it was, but she couldn't do it. If she said it back, he'd never leave. She closed her mouth, biting her tongue. Trying to smile, she nodded again.

He watched her for a brief moment, then turned and left, the door sliding closed behind him. Chell remained where she was for a minute or two, listening to his footsteps disappearing. Her fists were tightly clenched, cutting little crescent marks into her palms. Then she gave in, dissolving into sobs, dropping to her knees in the painfully empty corridor. The sound of her grief echoed in every corner of the room, heard by nobody at all. She was alone.

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**A/N: **Aww Chell doesn't want to die. Did they do anything besides sleeping in the middle of this chapter? You decide :)


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